


Renegade

by Maeoreth



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon-Typical Alcoholism, Canon-Typical Smoking, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, Explicit Language, F/M, Smoking, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2708813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeoreth/pseuds/Maeoreth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't look back, only press forward.</p><p>This story is one of betrayal, conceit, violence, music, love, and loneliness. An orphaned child from a city-state that prides itself on being the vanguard of principle and integrity lives a life different from the expected. A known thief, her capture means atoning for her crimes. Where else for penance to be given than at the League of Legends, serving her country? As she struggles to adjust to a new life of constant battle, strife, and death, she must also accept a new drug addiction stronger than anything she's ever seen before. Elaida must guard herself against those who wish to use her independent mind for their own twisted ends, as well as discover who, in the end, truly is her friend.</p><p>Based off stories like The Hunger Games, Divergent, The Count of Monte Cristo, Joan of Arc, and Oliver Twist.</p><p>Looking for a Beta Reader, inquire inside if interested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The italicized part I got here:  
> http://leagueoflegends.wikia.com/wiki/Demacia  
> So as to take directly from the lore. I don't own any of that part, nor any of the characters mentioned bar Elaida Brightsworn. She's mine (and maybe Jarvan's if she ever kicks her ass into gear).

_The people of Demacia are driven by their common cause to disseminate benevolence and order for the betterment of all beings throughout Valoran. They view malice and selfishness as a disease which should be expunged from the psyche of humankind. Those who come to Demacia and choose to settle within its borders are expected to share the ideals and virtues of its citizenry. Those who seek personal gain at the expense of others quickly find themselves ostracized… or worse._

_Life in Demacia is not one of placid utopian dreams. Since the Demacian people pride themselves as the moral vanguards of Valoran, they adopt seemingly draconian measures to ensure that their moral code remains the only code by which one may live within the country. Crime in any form is harshly punished: there are no misdemeanors within Demacia. Some detractors of Demacia (who criticize far from the reaches of the nation) claim this as proof of its inherent hypocrisy. Demacians counter this argument by pointing out that their justice system incorporates benevolence and mitigation into its verdicts. No one is punished without fair and just consideration of the circumstances involved. While others may continue to criticize the harshness of Demacian law, the Demacians stand by their convictions._

In a city-state self-regarded as a guardian of morality, any deviant behavior is observed as heinous and either stamped or thrown out. As such, some of the lower to middle class children have found themselves without a home or shelter; no longer with a family. Castaways, they tend to group together and rely on each other for support - food, shelter, water, weapons, whatever they can find. This leads to territory wars, with some having more water or food than others. But due to the swift firmness of the Demacian police force, the gang wars are considered ‘silent’ because the streetfighters are so fast, deadly and quiet. You don’t ever see them coming until it’s far too late.

This is the world in which Elaida found herself in for most of her life - a life of day-to-day survival, pure-instinct behavior, and temporary, self-satisfying allegiances that were lucky to last a week. She learned how to broker supplies between groups, earning a small wage in food and clothes from the larger, stronger gangs. Her role as a mediary was, for years, considered to be a huge role in a temporary fall in Demacian gang-related crime. However, a truce among such cutthroat rivals couldn’t last forever, and after one deal Elaida was brokering went south, she had to go into hiding under a fake name with no connections to survive the bitter onslaught of death.

That’s when Elaida met Lucian and Senna. They were a local couple that hunted the undead; an unpleasant occupation but one that earned a more than fair wage. When Elaida met them, they were just about to leave to handle a small zombie uprising in Ionia when they spotted her hiding under the steps to their house, starved and near death. They took her in, hired a nurse to care for her, and left. When she awoke from her feverish coma two weeks later, the couple had already returned and were waiting for her to awaken. The three came to a simple arrangement - Elaida would live with them as a maid; keeping their home clean and housesitting for them while they were out killing ghosts, lycans, vampires and the like, and in return she had free access to all of their food and water. Senna even found a box of some of her old clothes and gifted them to the girl upon the agreement of the deal.

Now with far less time dedicated to personal survival than before, Elaida spent the next year searching for her parents. She found the woman who’d been her mother’s nurse when she delivered the child - she said that her mother had been an Avarosan noble from Freljord and never once during her pregnancy spoke of who the father was. Sometime later, her presence in Demacia was leaked and she was assassinated when Elaida was only two years old - too little to remember. The nurse found a now orphaned Elaida and delivered her to a noble family, called House Brightsworn, who had been trying for years to have children, for Lady Brightsworn was barren.

When Elaida was eight years old, she was at a tutoring session with other noble children (including Houses Vayne and Laurent) and was picked on by some of the other kids. As the runt and the ‘adopted kid’, when the tutor would come to break up fights between her and the others, it was all too easy to pin the blame on her. After a particularly devastating fight that landed another child in the hospital and sent two more home with black eyes and broken noses. Elaida was considered too aberrant, vicious and conniving to be a proper Demacian child and was thrown out. Elaida would never forgive or forget the cruel treatment at the hands of both her tormentors at school and her so-called parents at home.

A year after being kicked out of her home, she’d found a temporary job with a few other kids. A large construction machine that no one fully understood was being used for the first time to build new homes. Unfortunately, it had been designed by Yordles, so when the occasional jam would happen the access ports were too small for adults to get into and had to be cleared by children. Dr. Heimerdinger, the inventor of the machine, was in Demacia at the time of the accident. He was there to oversee the new machine and ensure it’s productivity and effectiveness. Once, after totally clearing a jam, Elaida’s arm got caught inside the machine and it kicked itself back on with her arm still trapped inside. Dr. Heimerdinger was immediately contacted to provide instructions on how to recover her arm without losing it - but his response was too late. Her scream of agony when the machine sliced right through her upper arm would haunt the other children for the rest of their lives.

When emergency medics arrived to treat her, they scanned her body and identified her mistakenly as a noblewoman. They rushed her to a hospital back in the richer part of town where all the nobles were registered, and she had immediate surgery to stop the flow of blood streaming down her side. The socket of her shoulder was left completely intact, but the ball and the rest of her arm was sliced cleanly off. Dr. Heimerdinger arrived at the hospital mid-surgery, and volunteered to aid in recovery. When she awoke in her hospital bed, a new techmaturgical metal arm had been attached to her shoulder where her arm had once been.

Later, when Elaida is fourteen, Senna’s soul is captured by Thresh. She and Lucian grieve together for a short duration, but a few days after, he tells her he’s selling the house and is leaving. He never invites her to come; claiming it’s something he has to do alone. While she understands, a part of her resents him silently for abandoning her. Though on the other hand, Lucian’s underlying anger at anything and everything frightens her. She decides it would be better to live out on the streets; especially since now everyone’s probably forgotten about that sour deal she tried to make. From that point forward Lucian would wire money to a safe deposit box that she had a key to and could use to get food and anything else she needed.

Back out on the streets, she knows she only needs to survive four years before she’s drafted by the military (all Demacians are required to serve 3 year terms once they come of age). It’s at this point she begins taking odd jobs for people, bounty hunter type work; beat up other kids for information or money, find things out for people who need to know them, the occasional theft, etc. It helps that while she’d been raised by the noble family, they had her go through rigorous combat training; hand-to-hand, swords, knives, shurikens, guns, etc, and that Lucian had her go through similar training until she became a specialist with larger weapons. He even taught her how to use a cannon, though there wasn’t one on hand at the time and he simply had to drill her on it until she had it memorized.

By the time the military takes her in at 18, she’s already had enough training to put her a few steps ahead of the other draftees. During the end half of the training, however, something not even Elaida could’ve predicted happens: her prosthetic arm completely detaches itself at the elbow during a fight. She immediately concedes, though her opponent has completely stopped attacking, grabs her now-detached arm and bolts for her dorm. She spends an hour trying to reattach it, though she quickly realizes why it’s fallen: a special pin used to keep her arm in place has been destroyed by the constant use and needs replacing. When she reports to her commanding officer, he places her on the temporary disabled list to keep this from happening again in a more serious situation and tells her to get the arm repaired. She’s sent ‘home’ and spends the entirety of her military service sitting at a desk filing paperwork.

The three years turn out to be the three best of Elaida’s life, though she thought for a long time that nothing would replace Lucian and Senna. However, having her own steady flow of income turns out to be better than she thought it would be; especially since it meant she could finally afford the constant maintenance the prosthetic arm needed. Once every two weeks, she’s sent into her commanding officer’s office to have her arm checked out to see if it’s good enough for her to go on duty. Just before she leaves to head over, she removes the pin and favors the arm the whole trip there, so when she arrives and starts exercising, the thing falls off again and her appointment is pushed back another two weeks. As such, she’s moved to the permanently disabled list as her commanding officer becomes convinced that the arm will never be fully functional.

During her last month of military service, the option to sign up for another three years of service starts cycling around as it always does. However, when it reaches her, it immediately passes over instead of stopping. She knows why - disabled veterans are not allowed to reenlist. As such, she saves her last paycheck for the now destined upcoming days of poverty. The first month back out on the streets of Demacia is the worst - if it hadn’t been for that last check, she might not have survived. She curses her lack of foresight as she had written Lucian a letter saying he didn’t need to keep sending her money now that she was in the military.

After the first month however, the offers of bounty hunter work start floating around again, but this time she’s a veteran - which means harder, more physically challenging jobs open up. She finds herself a bodyguard for a high up officer paranoid that the Noxians are sending an assassin to kill him (turns out he’s right and she finds a much fatter paycheck in her envelope that month, even if she’s still having nightmares about the assassin’s ghost haunting her). Soon after that, more interesting jobs open up and she finds very pricey jobs landing in her lap, including but not limited to: spying, investigating, theft, murder, torture, among others. The expensive jobs are handed down by Demacian nobles. She regards most of them with disgust, but still takes and completes each job without question or hesitation.

It, ironically, isn’t until she’s doing a job for herself that she gets caught. A new techmaturgical piece has come out that’s used in the joints of mechanical arms; as such it’s an excellent and reliable replacement for the pin that occasionally falls out. But it was much more expensive than she could afford because she’d gotten a small rental home in the low-income area of Demacia and hadn’t had a job come up in a while. Already accustomed to a life of theft however, she quickly found herself trying to creep out of the store with the piece she needed in her pocket. The second she stepped out of the store, the Demacian police suddenly sprang out of their hiding places. In the center of them stood Rengar, the Pridestalker. He’d been hired by House Lightshield, the royal family of Demacia, to ‘root out’ the corruption in their city and find the source. He tracked her over the course of months, Rengar tracked all of Elaida’s crimes and found out about the new piece about the same time she did. He knew the implications of the part, and so set up the ambush. She surrenders quietly, knowing a fight would result in her death.

Her trial is bizarre. They suspect her of more crimes than even she thinks she’s physically capable of (more than 200 in the last three years), but they can only find solid evidence for six thefts of the 74 counts that she’s accused. Before she’s sentenced, however, she manages a plea bargain: she confesses to all of her crimes and pleads guilty and instead of being sentenced to death, she’ll spend the next ten years in the League of Legends representing Demacia. It’s one she cannot refuse. She confesses to 31 counts of theft, 4 counts of murder, 26 counts of blackmail and extortion, 2 counts of torture, and 68 counts of conspiracy in the last three years.

 


	2. In With The New

A door. A turned lock.

“Are you certain about this?”

A bed and a pillow.

“She will be excellent for the League. Her lack of allegiance will make her popular among the Summoners, her background will make her a strong fighter, and her personality will make crowds adore her.”

A crash of metal and cloth to the ground.

“But are you certain about this?”

A small feeling of comfort.

“Not entirely.”

Sleep.


	3. Relief in a Bottle

A faint knock resounds on the metal of the door early the next morning. The disheveled woman rises from her bed, scratching at her short hair. Standing, she stretches as the knock sounds again, and her feet lazily carry her to the frame. A button by the door brings up a display, showing and identifying who’s standing on the other side. Sona. Her soft hands hold up a sign that reads, ‘ _Hello!_ ’ After a moment’s deliberation, the door slides open.

“Good morning,” the woman yawns out, stretching again. Sona glides inside, her sheer size taking up most of the doorway. The magical musician gives the stranger a gentle smile. “What can I do for you?”

 _You’re the newcomer, right? The new Champion?_ Sona scribbles out on her paper she brought.

“Mhm.”

 _Excellent! Everyone is excited to meet you. Do you play music?_ The woman chuckles, shaking her head.

“No, never learned. I used to dance, but that was a long time ago.”

 _Well, perhaps you could show me sometime. What’s your name?_ A grin stretches across her face, scratching the nape of her neck.

“Elaida. They’re calling me Elaida, the Renegade.”

_Elaida is a pretty name, nonetheless. Where are you from?_

“From what I’ve been told, my mother was from Freljord, but I was born and raised in Demacia.”Sona’s eyes become very wide, and she bites her lower lip. “I know, you were orphaned, too. That’s probably why they sent you to come talk to me, we have similar backgrounds.” The mystic’s gaze becomes sympathetic, and she nods a little.

 _Do you have anything to deal with summoning sickness?_ Now Elaida becomes very confused, and Sona looks a little sorrowful. _I’m sorry I’m the one who has to tell you this, but the Summoners like to tell people that being summoned and dealing with dying over and over again in the arena has no effect whatsoever on the Champions. It’s a lie, a huge lie. If it wasn’t for Singed, I don’t know how most of us would get through all this._ Sona retrieves a small flash from the reaches of her robe, _Take this. After your first match, don’t sniff this stuff; just throw it back like a shot of bad whiskey. It’s the only thing that’ll keep you going._ Elaida takes the flask, unsure and cautious. _I’m not sure where the term ‘summoning sickness’ came from, it predates my time in the League. Wouldn’t surprise me if it was Soraka, she was one of the very first to come, back when this all started. Being in the League takes a massive psychological and physiological toll on you. This will help ease you after. Just be careful, it can be addictive._

With those words, Sona gives Elaida another gentle smile, gives her a short bow, and then takes her leave. Elaida stands and stares after the woman another moment longer, still unsure about what just took place.


	4. A Mirror

To put it plainly, Elaida did  _not_ like to be woken up. Especially with strangers hovering over her.

When the other two realized what had happened, Elaida had the third one in a headlock with a gun she kept concealed under her pillow pointed at the person's head. It took a second for her to realize that all three of the people were women, dressed like the flamboyant nobles of Demacia.

"Who  _the fuck_ are you?!" Elaida barks out, digging the barrel into the woman's skull, causing her to whimper. "Answer me!"

"We're your dressers!" One of the other two cries out, clutching her closer friend's arms. "We're here to get you ready for your photoshoot today!" Elaida's eyes narrow.

"I don't need dressers. I also don't need a photoshoot."

"Everyone has to do it, the only Champion who hasn't is Twitch, and that's because his dressers refused to go near him for the stink!" She couldn't help but chuckle at the image that formed in her mind, then she looked down at the woman locked against her body.

"Is this true?" The woman whimpers and nods, and Elaida releases her, putting the gun away. She drops to the ground and scampers away. "Fine, we do it your way. Anything funny happens..." She gives them a death stare, and all three nod in fear. "Names?"

"I-I'm Hera," the woman who'd been in the headlock stuttered out, "That's Athena," she indicates to the first woman who spoke, "and Aphrodite. We're sorry, we didn't mean to startle you." Once Elaida seems to have, at least for the moment, relaxed a little more, Hera clears her throat and stands up a little straighter. "Once your press release photo is put out there for the world to see, the Summoners will do a spell that'll be like memorizing your exact appearance. This way, when you go into the arena, no matter what changes to your appearance might've happened, the audience will always be able to recognize you. So it's important that you pick something you like."

"I like the way I look now." Hera's expression becomes strained, even as Elaida's stays steely.

"Yes, well, your face is caked in dirt, your clothes are...  _ragged_ , at best, and will do you no good as armor. The Summoners told us you'll be an AD champion, yes? Either playing in bot lane or top?"

"As far as I know."

"Then you're going to need something a little thicker than those used pants and that ripped up jacket." Elaida glares at her intensely.

"I've had this jacket since  _I was a child._ It's the only thing I have of my father. If it has to be modified to be more conducive to the League's conditions and standards,  _fine_ , but I'm  _keeping the jacket._ " Athena elbows Hera in the ribs, giving her a pointed expression. Hera sighs and nods.

"Very well. We'll have it sent to the armory. It'll have it's holes mended, and it'll be insulated better on the inside, but from the outside, it should look more or less the same. They're calling you The Renegade, so I guess having a more street-thug appearance will be appropriate for you. How about something along the lines of Nidalee or Riven's appearance?" She asks, trying to be congeal. Elaida raises a defiant eyebrow.

"How about something along the lines of Lux or Quinn's appearance?" Hera holds something back, biting her tongue. Aphrodite places a hand on her arm, then steps forward a little.

"What about Twisted Fate? I think his appearance will be more along the lines of what you're looking for. Keep the jacket, then just wear a pair of tight-fitting pants, and maybe a loose shirt underneath? It will hinder you less in battle, while still going for the appeal Hera wants for the audience." Athena nods enthusiastically, obviously ready to leave as soon as she can, terrified of the woman before her.

It took them another two hours before Hera and Elaida could agree on the colors. The above-mentioned jacket is about two sizes too big for the already thick-framed woman, a deep leather brown with a bomber jacket style, that's sleeves go just past her fingertips. The sleeves are pushed up around her elbows when she's in a fight, giving her room so they don't get somehow caught in her mechanized weapon. She's able to agree to allow them to tighten up the sleeves a little, so when they're pushed back they actually stay there. The entire thing is covered in patches of varying shades of brown, all attempting to be close to the original color. The strings are also of various fading colors, so Elaida also allows them to change the color of the patchwork to match the coat so it looks intentional, and the strings to a bright yellow to stand out against the brown. The inside is insulated with a durable metal that's light enough to not hinder Elaida, but thick enough to help her take some fire without being one-shot like a normal person would be.  Her clothes underneath are a loose-fitting long sleeved shirt and pants. The shirt is a metallic blue with skin-tight sleeves to give her a bit of warmth at the Holing Abyss, while also keeping away enough from her hands to not hinder her. The leather black pants are also very fitted, with an inlaid fiber mesh made out of a material that Elaida had never seen before, supposedly made in Zaun, that helped the leather breathe more on hot days. The shirt was tucked into the pants, and the pants were tucked into a pair of large boots that were custom made to match her coat.

After they're all finally able to settle on her new appearance, the trio of women send Elaida off to the showers, where she is scrubbed raw by a horde of women. Only once she is more clean than a sterilized hospital is she allowed to sit down and rest. One of the elder women retrieves a mirror, giving Elaida a gentle smile as she holds it up. The younger woman is taken aback by her own appearance, as though she hasn't seen in her own face in years. Of course, at present, it's beet red with having been scrubbed clean. Before she can really absorb the image in the mirror, it's pulled from her and her teeth and hair are brushed for her. It's when one of the women comes at her with a pair of scissors that Elaida draws the line, grabbing the woman's wrist, twisting it until it breaks. A Summoner enters almost immediately as the woman cries out in pain. A flick of its wrist, and her arm is mended. The Summoner barely spares Elaida a glance before disappearing, almost immediately after which her three dressers burst in through the door, looking panicked.

"What happened? What's wrong?" Aphrodite asks, approaching the woman who's wrist not two seconds ago had been shattered. The woman just continues to cry, still in shock from the explosive pain she'd just endured.

"She came at me with scissors." Elaida says in an almost bored tone.

"They were for cutting your hair!" Hera replies, exasperated, frustrated, and flustered.

"Don't touch my hair." Elaida's pretty sure even over the clamor, she can still hear Hera's teeth grinding in self-regulated restraint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who gets the reference about the dressers names and the mythic story I'm referring to gets soooo many brownie points. Hint: Orlando Bloom played a character that met all three of the women at once.
> 
> Also, I'm going to be keeping the chapters short. It's easier for me to just churn out a page or two and post it than to be writing massively long chapters over several days.


	5. Photos for Fans

"Why not?! We could even make it longer, if you'd like! It's so short."

"It's short because I can't have my hair in my eyes when I'm firing off a gun  _that rapidly shoots grenades_." That shut Hera up. Athena chuckles softly from somewhere behind Elaida. "The way it is now works for me. If you think it's needs a little trimming to make it look better for the camera, fine, but I like it the way it is." Hera sighs softly, scratching at the back of her neck as she examines Elaida's face.

"Alright, alright. Is it naturally white?"

"Yes."

"Do you want us to do anything about your arm?" Hera gestures towards the steel, and Elaida flexes a little.

"No, it's fine. I don't think anyone will make a big deal out of it." Hera deadpans.

"You have an _unexplained_   _metal arm_. People are  _definitely_ going to make a big deal out of it." Aphrodite approaches after comforting the healed woman.

"What happened to you, anyway? Why do you have a metal arm?" Elaida sighs, rubbing the steel a little. She elects on lying here, unsure of whether or not to trust the dressers just yet.

"I don't really remember." Aphrodite's fingers lightly graze where the mechanized appendage meets flesh, just beneath her shoulder joint. "It's been this way for most of my life. I don't even really think about it anymore. I know that without it, I wouldn't be able to lift my gun."

 _Later_...

Elaida rolls up her sleeves, staring at herself in the mirror. The trio of dressers had decided to make the undershirt sleeveless instead of long-sleeved to emphasis her metallic arm versus her still human arm. The reason they gave was at first they wanted to hide the metal, because they assumed Elaida was going to request a cosmetic spell to make it look more human, but when she never did, they decided on this course instead. She's taller than she remembers herself being, but it's been several years since really she's seen her own reflection. Her white hair has a long pixie cut, the base of which just barely graces her neck, with one bang hanging loose by the side of her face. Every misplaced hair has been removed, except for those to give her a slight air of wildness. Her frosty blue eyes remind of her Freljord heritage, piercing and hard like ice. Her features are soft, belying her intensity. Her clothes fit her thicker frame well. She's sturdy, like Leona and Sejuani, with curves that give her a certain femininity. Hera approaches, standing next to the mirror.

"Feminine, but womanly. Young, but with a deep wisdom, speaking of age beyond your years. Fearsome, intense, but approachable." The older woman gives her a glance over, before nodding with approval. "Yes, I think we achieved this quite excellently. Your attitude will tell someone trying to pick a fight to fuck off. You'll be very alluring, and an excellent choice for the arena, and for the League." Elaida gives a dark chuckle.

"Glad to see you succeeded so admirably." Her sarcasm is thick with an undertone of venom, her voice dry. Hera's face morphs into a grin.

"Exactly! Your appearance matches you perfectly." Her sigh is of happiness, and Hera gently taps Elaida's elbow, "Now then, come along, your photographers are waiting for you."

They walk down halls and corridors, passing no one on their way. They arrive in a large room, with little pocket areas in every corner. There's a fake volcano, some foresty-looking areas, an icy tundra, and others. It's only now that it dawns on Elaida that all of the photos she's seen of the Champions so far have been staged. There're even two made to look like Bilgewater. She's pulled towards one of the stages that looks more like a Demacian noble's house. She's put in various positions before they finally snap a photo, but even then, the quiet photographers still seem... displeased. Elaida lifts her heavy weapon with her metal arm, then wanders around as they debate, looking at what had to be well over twenty stages. Some of them she recognized for the 'alternative skins' for the Champions. Once she realized, it was then that she started hunting one in particular. Finding the one she wanted, she sat down and waited for them to come find her.

"Why are you over here?" One of the photographs ask once they finally do catch up to her, confusion written all over him. "This is where we usually take the Twitch photos..."

"Precisely. I'm The Renegade, right? Why would I be attending a high society party? I belong on the streets." She gets up, puts her foot on the top of a trash can, raises her grenade launcher, smirks, and pulls the trigger. Nothing comes spewing out, it's been emptied for the shoot, and they'll edit in the explosions later. The photographer's face brightens, and he immediately snaps two or three photos as her weapon acts like it's pumping out arsenal. 

"You were right, these look  _amazing_." Setting down the weapon, Elaida grins and nods. "That was a really great idea."

"I try. Get what you need?" The photographer whistles loudly, and the others that had crowded around while at the other stage appear, looking over his shoulder. The man who Elaida can only guess to be the one in charge nods in approval.

"Do a few more poses, take a few more photos, this is on the right track."


	6. A Ritual Like No Other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Summoners are supposed to look like they did in the League of Legends videos, one of which is here:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E6CRamuAkXc  
> The only difference being that their hoods cover their eyes unless they use magic to push them up.

When Elaida awoke the next morning, she was grateful to not have anyone standing directly over her again. Though once she sat up, it was with a heavy groan from the sight of the three dressers sitting in chairs, sipping a dark brown liquid. Athena is the first to greet Elaida, standing and crossing the room.

"Good morning!" She chirps, "Try this, it's all the rage in Noxus right now!" One sip and it's all Elaida can do to not spit the strange concoction out.

"What _is that_?" She asks, bewildered at Athena and distrusting of the cup. Athena pouts a little.

"Don't like it?"

"Don't get your hopes up  _too_ high, Athena," Hera states, staring at the wall across from her, never even once looking at Elaida, "She was raised on the streets, someone like her wouldn't know how to appreciate fine dining." Elaida pointedly rolls her eyes, but stands, throwing a clean shirt on to cover her bra-clad chest. "Don't bother wearing something else, Elaida. Your first match begins in two hours. You need to get your gear on go see the Summoners. Aphrodite will lead you there."

"Glad to see I left such a great impression, Hera," Elaida bites out, stripping the shirt off and going to find the one she's  _supposed_ to wear. She had no idea being in the League of Legends would be so... irritating.

_Later..._

Stepping in through the glowing, blue doorway, Elaida feels at extreme unease. Aphrodite, for her usual calm, doesn't seem very pleased, either. This is apparently the parlor that leads into the Summoner's Quarters, and it's as far as any Champion has ever gotten. They're not allowed further inside. The room is circular and bare, save for the 122 pictures that adorn the singular wall, a picture for each Champion. On the floor are three inlaid circles, the outermost with the thickest edge, the middle thinner, and the innermost thinner still. The wall and floor are a navy blue color, and the circles are each a very light blue that reminds Elaida of Sona's hair. The room seems...  _alive,_ somehow, as though the mana that fills the Summoners that so frequently come in and out of this room has filtered into the walls and floor, making it a very surreal experience. On the far side of the room stand three Summoners, each staring at the floor, as though they haven't realized Elaida and Aphrodite's presence yet. Aphrodite motions for Elaida to step into the outermost circle. Upon doing so, the Summoners look up, seeming to stare at her, but their hoods cover their eyes so she cannot see them. 

"Welcome," the one in the middle states, it's voice sounding almost hollow, "Please stand in the center."

Elaida carefully steps through the middle circle and moves to stand in the center of the innermost circle. The three Summoners start a chant, gentle, almost too soft to hear at first, then louder and louder, until their voices seem to boom off the walls. The circles on the floor glow, also gently at first, before becoming so bright, Elaida can barely stand to look at them. The chant becomes faster and faster until it's almost erratic, the words blurring together, not that she could understand them to begin with. The glow emanating from beneath her feet start to rise, thick blue tendrils coming off the circles, wrapping around her legs and arms until eventually penetrating her body, filling her with their strange magic and words from the inside. It takes only seconds before she feels so full of their magic that she thinks she's going to burst, and her skin feels like it's stretching to contain it. She only then realizes there's a scream of pain echoing off the walls with the Summoner's strange words, and it's another beat before she realizes it's her own scream that fills the room, the pain like fire, licking her body. All she can see is blue, all she can taste is their magic, all she can hear are their words.

_Black..._

Elaida groans, feeling worn from the inside, out. Slowly, she pulls her arms and legs underneath her form, taking a second to register that she's now on the ground. Aphrodite mumbles a word of encouragement, and Elaida pushes herself up off the floor. She dusts herself off a little, then glances around. She hasn't moved, but the Summoners are gone, and Aphrodite now waits to take her back to her room. Turning, she gives the other woman a look of confusion.

"That was the rite of passage, so to speak, ritual. They filled you with magic, so much so it began pouring out your eyes, ears, mouth, even your nose. You even lifted off the ground about a foot for a minute there, then you blacked out."

" _Right._ Let's get out of here before I experience anymore tremendous pain, shall we?" Elaida asks with a tone of biting sarcasm mixed with a bit of anger that she wasn't warned of this before. Aphrodite nods and leads her out, never once crossing over the outermost circular barrier. As she walks out, Elaida never noticed the one hundred and twenty third portrait of herself that has formed on the wall above the door.


	7. The First of Many

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear because it gets a little confusing, here are the teams, from top, jung, mid to bot:  
> Blue:  
> Nasus  
> Rengar  
> Ahri  
> Elaida  
> Sona
> 
> Purple:  
> Udyr  
> Lee Sin  
> Ryze  
> Ezreal  
> Lux
> 
> Also, basically the idea is that, in the arena, the items the Summoners purchase at the store for their Champs change their appearance. So Berserker's Greaves make Elaida's boots have a metal plating on either side, a metal tip, and little angel wings, but with the brown leather base underneath.

_13:07..._

_Run. Run. RUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUN!!!_

"NOT WITHOUT YOU!"

Spinning around on her heel, Elaida registered the mode of her large weapon changing, and she fired almost blindly into the crowd of Champions rushing her. They all held up an arm to shield their eyes, but the cloud of smoke in their eyes blinded them, and when she fired again, nets smacked into their bodies, causing them to slow down and Ryze to tumble. Sona floated by as quickly as she could as Elaida continued to fire into the four chasing them. Udyr, Ryze, Ezreal and Lux. Once Sona was safely within their turret range, Elaida stopped firing and barely was able to dodge Ez and Lux's last attempts at stunning at slowing her, thankful Lux's ult was on cooldown still. Once inside the safety of the turret, Elaida used her wrist to wipe a bit of blood off the side of her mouth, giving Sona a toothy grin.

"Told you. Not without you." Sona pointedly rolled her eyes. Udyr growled before prowling away back towards top, where Lee Sin was guarding against the two rather hungry-looking Rengar and Nasus. They'd pushed a little too hard, bringing almost the entire enemy team down on them. It was part of the plan, expected, but nonetheless dangerous.

_You're going to get us killed._

"I'm still broken as fuck. Shush. Besides, these boots help," she lifted her feet, showing off how her traditionally deep brown leather boots now had a solid metal lining on the outside, with little angel wings towards the top. "Had no idea they looked like these in person, but hey, I'll take the Berserker Greaves buffs." Sona chuckles, shaking her head.

_Come on, Ahri's got a good push going in mid._

"You go, I'm going to go pick something up from the store." Sona nods, floating away into the jungle, placing wards where she can.

Elaida sees before she feels the blue rings of transportation forming around her. She puts on the stance from her promotional photo without even thinking about it, looking up at the camera, lowering her gun, and giving the audience an almost bored, come-at-me expression before disappearing into the light. The old man gives her one of his automatic responses, no one outside the arena having yet realized that he's a machine, not a person. She sets her gun down on the counter, giving it a sideways glance to make sure it won't fall before the shop window opens in front of her. Glancing back up, she watches the display change as her Summoner flicks through a couple of options, before finally settling on spending all of her accumulated gold to buy the Bloodthirster straight up. Elaida can't help but grin, noticing her weapon next to her change, getting red tendrils that glow gently up and down it's sides. Picking it up, she tests the weight, and not noticing any difference, charges down mid.

_16:32..._

The hairs on the back of Elaida's neck stood up as she detected (was informed by the Summoner?) Rengar behind her, waiting for their shared enemies to get close enough to pounce on. She and the rest of their team were pounding on the second turret in mid lane, with bot already well pushed, and everyone keeping a mental eye on top lane to see if the other team was going to try for another push. She was rather confident they would win, but she refused to allow herself to get cocky. She could hear her Summoner gloating to the others in her mind, obviously a bit more new than the others, though still very powerful.

That was how it happened.

It was the distraction of it's pride in her mind that distracted it from the task, meaning the Summoner didn't pull her back from the turret just quite fast enough. The rest of her team backed up, and she was just two clicks too slow. Ryze saw an opportunity, launching his Rune Prison, capturing just inside the turret range. Lee Sin kicked the last minion out, and she heard the loud beep of the turret focusing it's targeting system on her. She swallowed thickly as Udyr changed to his Tiger form, Ezreal and Ryze charged their next attacks, and Lux sent out another slow just behind Elaida, so even when the prison wore off, she wouldn't be going anywhere soon. Lee Sin and Udyr were on top of her just as the turret started firing, Ez and Ryze launching their spells at her. The armor her Summoner had bought helped, and she's acutely aware of how much damage her jacket is taking from her natural armor stats, but Udyr's large fist coming up underneath her jaw in the same instant that Lee Sin's foot makes contact with her stomach makes her want to scream and throw up all at the same time. As she recovers from this initial attack, blinking the stars away, pain floods her system from the turret's onslaught as the magic attacks from Ez and Ryze land at the same time. She can feel her own bones buckling. It's then that the prison releases, and she's finally able to get out, doing her best to run. Her flash comes up, and she makes it to just the other side of Lux's light field, only to feel fire and light burn through her body leaving a massive hole where her chest should be. Blood, stomach, organs, and other miscellaneous body parts spew out across the field, and Elaida collapses to her knees before hitting the grass, dead.

_17:04..._

Elaida wakes up back on the Summoning platform, wanting to immediately collapse to her knees again and throw up right there. Sona arrives, immediately touching her shoulder, worry on her face. Turns out, she had died not an instant after Elaida, having been caught in Lux's burst of light as well. She coughs up blood, but shoos Sona away.

"I'm fine, Sona. I'll get used to it."

_It's your first death. Are you sure you're fine?_

"I have to be. The game goes on, whether I-" and before she could stop herself, she's charging down mid again.

_23:56_

_VICTORY!_  A woman's voice shouts into their minds, just as they watch the large purple gem explode in front of them. After a few seconds of waiting, they're all teleported back into the Summoning Zone, where they were when they waited for the match to begin. The second they all land, Rengar grabs a nearby bucket and shoves it in front of Elaida just as she begins to vomit her breakfast all over the floor. Sona rubs her back as the large cat gives a soft growl.

"You did well today. I look forward to meeting you on the battlefield again." Elaida gives him a weak smile, before going back to her previous task of emptying her system. Rengar leaves. Nasus and Ahri stand nearby, both at the ready to go and fetch the doctor in case if something goes wrong. When she's finally able to push herself back against the wall, resting and panting heavily, Ahri gives her a smile.

"He wasn't lying, you know. You were amazing today." She seems to try to say some sort of condolence, but falling short, she awkwardly moves away, mumbling a goodbye. As Elaida wipes the sweat off her face, she gives Sona a little smile, who nods encouragingly.

"Elaida," Nasus's deeper voice, now from so far above her head, comes off as godlike. The woman looks up at the tank, curious, "I wanted to know... why did you spare me Lux's ultimate? The first time, I mean. You pushed me out of the way and took it yourself." She looks down again, rubbing her jaw, recalling the incident. It had been just before she died, Lux had a massive cooldown reduction rate, and she knew that. She also knew that Nasus wasn't building magic resist, but armor. "It took off half your life total."

"Because I needed you to tank the turret, our minions were at our base still, and their team hadn't arrived yet. I was certain we could take the turret before Lux's ultimate came back online, and I thought Rengar had taken Ezreal down sooner than he actually had." Nasus thought about her words, then nodded, accepting it for an answer.

"And if you'd known then what you do now?" She shrugs.

"I don't prefer to deal in what-if's." The expression he gives is unreadable, though there seems to be a trace of a smile. "Don't sweat the small stuff, Nasus. We still won, and that's what counts, even if I did die and give Lux a kill and 500 bonus gold." When he leaves a few minutes later, Sona gives her a grin, confusing Elaida, "What?" Sona motioned between them, made a sign for talking, and then a thumbs up. "Are you trying to inform me I handled that conversation well?" Sona lifts her thumbs a little higher, "Good?" Higher, "Great?" A massive grin and a nod. "What, is he going to be super-loyal now, or something?" Sona shrugs, then gives a so-so gesture, "Yes, but not totally?" She nods again. "Hmm. I'll remember that."


	8. A Drink and A Friend

Sona pulls Elaida into a room she hasn't seen yet. It's utterly massive, with tables and chairs scattered everywhere. The floor is a dark color that Elaida pegs as brown, with deep blue walls that have large, gold-trimmed drapes with symbols on them for each nation, clan and tribe represented by the League's Champions. A sense of appreciation passes briefly through her system, recognizing how long it must've taken for someone to make all of these and then put them up. On the far wall is a table with snacks, coffee, tea, and a few drinks and foods Elaida doesn't really want to identify. Directly across from the doorless doorway (which she decided was strange, why have a doorway and no door?) that connected to the hall they just came from was another doorless doorway with a hall on that side as well. Next to the doorway is another door, this one solid metal like the one for Elaida's room, and next to that is a bar with barstools that are bolted into the ground. Atop one of these barstools is a dark figure, definitely human, or human-ish, with a small billow of smoke seemingly pouring from it. It's wearing a long, light brown trench coat, with pants and large boots. Sona happily approaches the stranger, appearing next to it, who starts in surprise.

"Oh, Sona!" Says the masculine voice, and as they turn to give Sona a grin, Elaida recognizes the stranger as Malcolm Graves. He chuckles, then slaps his hand on the bar, "Oi, get me somethin' to write with and write on, Sona's here!" A large, burly man, about Gargas' girth and Tryndamere's height, with an apron and chef's hat on appears and gives Sona the requested items. She gives him a smile and a nod of thanks, and he grunts in response before disappearing into the recesses that is the darkness behind the counter. "What'cha need, girly girl?" He asks, still grinning widely. Sona scribbles something out before showing him, and when he finishes reading it, he immediately looks up and makes eye contact with Elaida, "C'mon, I don't bite 'less y'ask for it." Elaida steps forward with a soft chuckle of her own.

"What qualifies as 'asking for it'?" He pats the seat opposite Sona, and she fills it as he orders her whatever it is he's drinking. He laughs.

"Actually asking for it. Drink this right up with that stuff Sona's probably already given ya, it'll make it go down easier." She'd almost forgotten about the flask she'd kept tucked in an inside pocket of her jacket, and she cringes to herself.  _It's probably been destro-_ as she pulls it out, she realizes it's in perfect condition. Her jaw drops, and Graves notices, chuckling. "Thought it'd be gone, didn'tya? Nah, Summoner magic tends t'do a pretty good job of keepin' personal possessions and the like well guarded." He takes the flask from her hands, opens it up, and deposits it's greenish contents into the glass of what was once a dark brown liquid. "Drink up."

Lifting the glass, Elaida's about to give it a gentle whiff before Sona shakes her head, reminding her that she'd been expressly told to  _not_ do that. With a soft sigh, she plugs her nose and pushes the drink to the furthest part of her mouth, trying to not choke on the bile flavor. Swallowing hard, she manages to get most of it down in one go, though it's all she can do to not throw it back up again. As she coughs and sputters, Graves gets her another drink quickly, knowing better than to waste time. She sees the edges of her vision go dark for a few seconds, her skin feeling like fire as the familiar burn of alcohol rose in her throat. She coughs hard, feeling like her eyes are about to burst from their sockets, her entire body, but her stomach mostly, wracking with pain. Another drink is pushed into her hand and she downs it faster than the first. The alcohol is more relevant in this drink, but it's cleansing powers helps calm her system back down. Shaking her head to try to clear the pain, she looks up at her two companions.

"Wh-Wha-" Sona has already written an explanation and she pushes it in front of her.

_That weird gunk is produced by none other than Singed. It's going to help your body adjust to what you're going through. You can't feel the affects now, but trust me when I say you will tonight when you go to bed. The reason for the alcohol is because it'll help get you to sleep. Normally it wouldn't, but that's Graves' special brew. You're still going to want to take it after every game, but after the first few matches, you'll be able to get to sleep better. I need to be off, I'm supposed to be having tea this afternoon with Lux. Malcolm's rough around the edges, but he's sweet, knowledgeable and more understanding than you'd think._

By the time she's finished reading all of that, Sona's left. Looking up, Elaida only sees the quiet outlaw next to her, drinking whatever he has while watching her out of the corner of his eye. When he finishes, he turns towards her with a soft sigh.

"I reckon you're gonna want to know what the hell is goin' on." Elaida only nods, "Well, get comfy. It's a tale," she sits up a bit straighter in her seat before making it clear he has her full attention, "Well, d'ya know who Lulu is?" She nods, "Lulu... she ain't what e'erybody out there says she is. Rumor 'round 'ere says she's never even been to Bandle City, let alone comes from there. The way I hear it, she was  _created_ by the Summoners. No one really knows why, but they wanted to see if they could genetically engineer Champions. My guess would be so that all Champions would be neutral parties like the Summoners are, and would then always be compatible together, unlike if you've got Jarvan and Swain on a team together now. Anyway. They kept the project a secret, and in order to ensure no one 'eard about 'er, they kept 'er locked inside a cage. Now, that sorta treatment would drive  _anyone_  mad, but because they kept Summoning her, over and over again? Her mind  _shattered,_ her body  _changed_. Reason why she's purple, and so's Soraka? Two of them have been Summoned too many times without taking anything to help them adjust. I think 'Raka used to look more like her Dryad skin, but I ain't been here long enough to remember. I've heard, though, if y'go ask Annie about it, she'll tell ya all about how Soraka used to be different, different person, different  _skin_. Ashe's hair used to be blonde, now it's white. Then Singed shows up and starts producin' that chemical shit you just drank to 'elp make up for it. Help keep ya  _normal_." Elaida has a hard time taking all this in, but then Graves nudges her gently, "Y'wanna know the really weird part? If y'start talking to Lulu, y'sometimes can see Pix, that lil' pixie that sits on her shoulder? Yeah, he'll start whisperin' in 'er ear if the conversation takes certain turns. Next thing y'know, you're talkin' about somethin' totally different. If y'listen close enough? You can hear him tellin' 'er what to say." She rubs a hand over her face, crossing her arms and staring at the bar. He rubs his jaw, then nudges her again. "So where'd y'get a metal arm and such a nifty gun?" She laughs at his use of the word 'nifty', making him grin.

"Welll..."

"C'mon, then!"

"Alright, alright. I was nine. I grew up adopted, pretty much raised by servants, blah blah blah. The dirty side of Demacia people like Jarvan, Lux and Garen don't  _want_ you to see or know about, where all the really bad shit goes down? Spent part of my childhood down there, and most of my teen years. Demacia, for all it claims to be, as a massive population of homeless children. If children are seen as being 'too destructive' or 'too self-serving', they're thrown out onto the street. Better to preserve the moral center of the home than risk having your reputation ruined because you have a rowdy child. These kids, with no one to guide or protect them, form vicious gangs. There've been ferocious wars in Demacia's not-so-distant past, and not out on some distant battlefield. They're quiet, not like the ones in Noxus where it's obvious, but they're there. You just have to be out on the streets long enough to see and know. Anyway, there was this new invention circulating in construction, one that was built and primarily made  _for_ Yordles. If you're human and it gets a jam, which it did a lot, you had to either have a Yordle on hand or ask some homeless kid to reach into the access port and clear it out. I got a small job doin' that at about nine years old, paid enough each time I cleared the jam to feed me for a few weeks. Unfortunately it had a tendency to either shut itself off or turn itself on semi-randomly, and well, you can imagine what happened." She holds up her arm, and Graves shakes his head.

"Damn. So that's how you lost your natural one, how'd this thing come about?" Elaida chuckles.

"When my arm first got stuck, they called the guy who invented the damn thing to ask how to get my arm unstuck before the machine turned itself back on, but he wasn't quite fast enough. When they rushed me to the hospital, he asked where I was headed so he could meet me there. Oh, I should mention I spent most of my life living with a noble family, adopted. House Brightsworn, named after their ancestors who were among the first to pledge allegiance to House Lightshield after they became the ruling house. When they adopted me, they gave me the name Elaida, so when the emergency medics arrived to take me to the hospital they found me under the registered name Elaida Brightsworn and took me to the noble's hospital, even though I hadn't lived with my adoptive family in almost a year at that point. Turned out the guy who invented the machine that took my arm off? Dr. Heimerdinger. He showed up about half way through the surgery and took over, and built this thing." She twisted her arm around a little, rotating her shoulder and wrist. Graves whistled.

"By god, you were  _damn_ lucky." She chuckles, nodding.

"I was. It didn't take long after that to realize that having a techmaturgical, solid arm was going to have a few benefits, primarily, I became a lot stronger. Once I got to be about fifteen, I went into a local gunshop, got a few parts, and built Dragonsbreath." Graves gives her a curious look and she laughs a little, "It's what I call her. The gun, I mean. A fully automatic grenade launcher. For the purposes of having an equal playing field, however, the League changed Dragonsbreath a little. My passive is a faster heal, like Garen, but mine's constant, and not as big of an early game-changer. All of my abilities, though, are toggles. My Quick toggles Dragonsbreath into firing a thicker grenade that acts like Teemo's Quick, y'know, blinding them. My Worry is a flare that acts like a ward but for less time, and my Engage toggles me to firing nets that slow." He shakes his head, rolling his eyes at her with mirth.

"Don't you mean your Q, W and E?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Alright, what about your ultimate?"

"Dragonsbreath becomes a canon."

 


	9. A Tale if I've Ever Heard One

The rest of the week is very difficult on Elaida. If she's not eating or asleep, she's on the Fields of Justice, mowing over enemy teams, or being mowed over by enemy teams. By the end of it all, she does up a tally. 231 kills, 167 deaths, 28 assists. Chuckling, she drops into a chair, fingering the edge of a cup.  _Not too shabby,_ she can't help but think to herself. She takes a deep swig of her coffee, glancing around the room. She's found herself back in what the other Champions call the Kitchen's Area, though the actually kitchen itself is guarded by a spirit that cooks all their food, and they get to sit in a cafeteria-esque setting. Glancing towards the bar, she recalls the conversation she had with Graves just a few days ago, about Lulu, about the League, everything. Scratching her head, she pushes those thoughts away, deciding now's not the time for that.

Elaida tips back in her chair, leaning the back of it against the table with the miscellaneous snacks, sipping more of her coffee. With her back to the wall, she can see everyone coming in or out, and who's in the room at all. She's yet to see another Demacian other than herself and Sona visit this area. Sejuani was in once, asking for a slab of meat, likely for her boar. At present, Teemo, Poppy and Tristana sit at another table on the far side of the room from her, laughing loudly. It didn't take Elaida very long to realize Tristana probably has the filthiest mouth out of every Champion, she's not heard so many swear words come out of one person before. Poppy's language is rough as well, but nowhere near Tristana. Teemo's voice is too soft for her to hear from this distance. She has half a mind to go over and ask about Heimerdinger, but she's ultimately decided they probably don't know him that well, let alone know where he is or be able to ask if he would be willing to see her.

Rubbing her non-metal arm, Elaida glances at the other side of the room from over the top of the rim of her cup. A strange-looking, gothic teenager and Draven sit with their backs to her, speaking in soft tones, and Darius sits across from them, occasionally glancing over at Elaida. Finally, he can't seem to handle whatever conversation is going on any longer. He abruptly stands, quietly excuses himself, and departs from their table. The feet of Elaida's chair hit the ground as she notices his approach. She momentarily debates trying to leave before he can get to her, but he doesn't seem to be trying to threaten her. She decides, instead, to stare into her cup until he addresses her. When he stands at the edge of her table, he clears his throat gently.

"Hello," he greets in a soft tone.

"What can I do for you?" She asks, looking him in the eye, giving a small smile. He straightens his shoulders a little.

"Give me someone else to talk to until my brother's ready to leave," she raises an eyebrow, "I support his relationship to the best of my ability, but I cannot handle that much.... lovey-dovey _crap_." Elaida can't help but snort, but nods her head to the chair closest to him. "Thank you," he says as he sits.

"Who is she, anyway? I don't recognize her." He chuckles.

"You wouldn't. That's  _Annie_. People forget she's been in the League since the beginning, and that was twelve years ago. She's a legal adult now, so she and Draven don't have to hide their relationship anymore." Elaida's jaw hits the ground.

"But isn't there a massive age disparity...?" Darius shakes his head.

"Draven's not as old as he looks. They're not as far apart in age as you might think. She just wasn't legal yet, so they waited to actually be together. Like I said, I support them as much as I can. I still have some reservations about the whole thing, but I don't think Draven would appreciate my airing his dirty laundry to a perfect stranger." He extends a large hand, "Darius, the Hand of Noxus." She laughs, shaking her head as she accepts his hand with her metal one.

"Elaida, the Renegade." He grins.

"You're the new one. Elaida is a very lovely name." She smiles.

"Thanks. What about you, got anyone in your sights?" He sighs and rubs the back of his neck.

"Well, yes. We've just decided it's safer for everyone if we kept it quiet." She deadpans.

"It's _not_ Lux." He lets out a loud guffaw.

"Absolutely not! No, no, all I'll say is it  _is_ someone from my homeland, but that's it." She nods, and it's quiet for a few minutes. 

"So where are you headed?" Elaida finally asks to break the silence. Darius looks confused, "You said you and your brother are leaving. Where to?"

"Oh, yes. We're returning home for a while. We'll be back in two weeks time." It's quiet again. "Have you ever been to Noxus?" Elaida shakes her head.

"No, I've never been outside of Demacia. Grew up there, y'know." He nods.

"Yes, I read the official story. Adopted, grew up either in wealth or on the streets." Her smile is... bland. "If the opportunity arises, you know, when things calm down for you, perhaps you could be a guest of my brother's and mine in Noxus." She laughs, shaking her head.

"I'm technically not allowed to leave. The League isn't my home, it's my prison. Part of the deal I worked out to not end up behind bars. I have to spend a minimum of ten years here. I'm allowed visits back home, but only for special occasions. Considering I don't have a family to speak of, the next 'special occasion' is probably when Jarvan gets crowned, and I'm just going to use that as an excuse to get out for a few days. Then I'm back here to finish the rest of my sentence." Darius gives her an appraising look.

"What were you charged with?"

"Six charges of theft."

" _Theft?_ They're putting you in the League of Legends for _ten years_ for  _theft_? What the fuck did you steal?"

"Parts for my arm, a loaf of bread for some homeless kids I knew." Elaida almost wants to laugh out loud at the look of pure shock on Darius's face.

"For fuck's sake! That's  _it_?"

"Crime is severely frowned upon. I wouldn't have stolen the parts, but it's not cheap to give this thing maintenance." He shakes his head.

"How had you been maintaining it this long?" She shrugs.

"Well, when I became of age, I did my required three years of military service. I was branded 'disabled' due to my arm, and the entirety of my service was spent in Demacia. The money I earned went completely to keeping my arm in a manageable state. When I finished, the skills I'd learned helped me become a local mercenary, doing odd jobs here and there. Occasional assassination, stealing this or that, delivering a message to this person or someone over there. The  _one time_  it's when I'm doing it for myself that I fuck up and get caught. I had a nice little business as a mercenary in that town. It's why when they finally pinned me for something, they gave me such a big sentence for it. It's pretty well known I've done a lot of shit, but I'm pretty damn good at not getting caught and not leaving evidence. Hence why they went to me. I was actually supposed to serve two years in solitary confinement, seven years in prison, and then a year in 'rehabilitation', which really means, 'we torture the shit out of you until you agree to not do whatever you put you here ever again'. I told them I could serve Demacia instead, that they could pit me against their best, and if I won, they'd send me to the League instead for ten years." He smirks at her.

"Who'd the put you up against?"

"Jarvan. I kited him hard. In Demacia, it's required that all televisions broadcast Jarvan's matches for the entire city to see, didn't take me long to realize he can't handle a ranged adversary as well." She shrugs, "Just kept my distance, he never laid a finger on me." He laughs, shaking his head.

"That's a tale if I've ever heard one." She rubs her jaw a little, eyeing him.

"Tell me something."

"Mmm?"

"What's this business between Noxus and Demacia? I didn't really have an education, so I wasn't able to be indoctrinated with Noxian hatred like everyone else in my country." Darius sighs, sitting back in his chair with a grim smile.

"That's a long tale. Basically, Noxus believes that strength is determined by pitting yourself against others, and if you win, you're the better. The physically and mentally strong win their power through any means necessary. Only the strong are allowed to survive. Demacia is about all people constantly striving to better themselves together. So if you're weaker than I, and everyone knows it, it is still part of my responsibility to stoop to help you become better and stronger. They believe themselves to be the vanguards of virtue, justice and truth." He rolls his eyes, and she chuckles. "We've been at war for... gods, since the founding of each city. There's always been an intense hatred between Demacia and us." Her gaze trails back into her now-empty cup of coffee, nodding as she thinks. "I hope I've made things a little clearer for you...?" She nods, giving him a little smile.

"Yes. I've heard there's been some trouble in the Noxian leadership. What happened with that?" Darius seems to consider his words carefully.

"Noxus is governed by a Grand General. Recently, General Boram Darkwill, the former Grand General, was assassinated. Noxian High Command was going through the process of deciding upon a new leader, and there was some time when all of the Generals and their supporters were battling it out. Almost started a Civil War. Considering the circumstances, I decided it would be best to stand down from attempting to seize power, and instead evaluate who would be a better leader. Jericho Swain is a brilliant strategist and just all-around excellent leader. Once I'd made the decision to support him, I started removing his competition in order to halt the approach of the on-coming civil war. Keiran Darkwill was the former Grand General's son, and when Swain defeated him, he was awarded the position of Grand General." Elaida nods, and he chuckles. "Perhaps you'll get the chance to meet him. He occasionally fights on the Fields of Justice, and I visit his quarters frequently when we're both here at the same time."

"I certainly look forward to it."


	10. Spilling Your Guts to Garen Crownguard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get up. Classes are kicking my ass, but the semester's almost over! :D
> 
> Also, I noticed that the first eight chapters were written in present-tense. This is written in past-tense. Sorry if it's confusing.

Patch Day.

Thank. God.

Patch day came at the beginning of each week, Champions power levels went up or down depending on who was getting to be overpowered or too weak. It meant it was the one day a week the Summoners took off to fix issues, repair arena damage, and other maintenance. The overplayed Champions usually took the day off as well, spending the day sleeping. The others either took the day to catch up on socializing, reading, taking care of their plants (Zyra did, anyway), caring for pets (Sejuani, Quinn, and Swain, primarily), responding to the needs of their people (Swain, Jarvan, Ashe, Sejuani, Lissandra, etc), repairs (Singed, Heimerdinger, etc), or other routine maintenance.

Elaida slept until the early afternoon, her body exhausted but unaccustomed to friendly surroundings. She slept until her body wouldn't allow her to any longer. When she woke, it was to the faint smell of hot tea. Sitting up and stretching, she saw a tray with a cup of said tea, along with a couple of biscuits from the Kitchens. She'd wolfed down two of the biscuits and half the tea before she noticed the note sitting on the tray. Picking it up, she instantly recognized Sona's handwriting.

 _Down at training, come join when you can! Glad you got a chance to rest. This was all I could smuggle out before the Kitchen noticed, since they close down after lunch until dinner except for snacks. Sorry. D:_  
_-Sona_

She pulled a nearby shirt on over her head, threw on the closest pair of decent pants she owned, grabbed her jacket and Dragonsbreath and was out the door. She hoped she wasn’t too late; she wanted to see what the other Champions could do. However, one shouldn’t try sliding on their coat while briskly walking around a corner at the same time, else one might do something… foolish. Like collide with a much larger human being, and immediately land on your ass.

“‘Ey!” Elaida shouted before she could stop herself, “Watch where you’re going?” She heard a throaty chuckle.

“Me? Perhaps you ought to be the more careful one, m’lady. Running in the halls is frowned upon.” She knew that voice. She’d know that voice anywhere. Literally, _anywhere_. She’d heard it almost every day of her life up until very recently. Any crowd, anywhere couldn’t disallow her to recognize that voice.

“Hello, Garen,” she groaned out, and when she was finally able to sit up and take stock of her position, she noticed an offered hand in her face. Looking up, the large man hadn’t even budged. She couldn’t help her glare, before brushing past his hand and getting up by herself. He was taken aback by her behavior.

“Have I offended you?” He seemed to be genuinely trying to help, but she hated him - well, hated what he represented - too much to allow him to. She growled, and even though she would’ve loved to gotten into this argument with him, she knew better. She had somewhere to be and was already late.

“Look, just stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours, capiche?” Without another word, she pushed past him. Before she could more than two steps, his hand was on her shoulder dragging her back.

“What have I done? I must know, please. I want to apologize.” His sincerity made her even angrier. Couldn’t she just hate and loathe him at peace? And preferably from a distance?

“You can’t apologize for being who you are.” His eyes widened a little.

“I-I don’t understa-”

“And you never will, _Garen_.” She spat his name out, hating the feel of it in her mouth. He sat there, dumbfounded for several moments, staring at her. When Elaida finally couldn’t take the awkward silence anymore, she tried to walk away again, only to be once again dragged back.

“Then at least allow me to make up for it.” She rolled her eyes, exasperated.

“How can you, Garen? Everything you are, everything you strive towards, it’s the opposite of me. Everything you represent told me my _whole life_ that I was a worthless scumbag who didn’t deserve to be Demacian. That it would be better for me to _die_ than to continue poorly representing our ‘great city’. Let me tell you something about our ‘great city’, Garen, it _fucking sucks_. You’re either a wealthy nobleman who thinks too highly of himself, or a street rat with barely enough food to sustain you another day. Nowhere in the Demacian code of honor does it speak about trying to help the poor. Help your brethren, help those like you, those who think, talk, and act like you? Sure. Help them. But the children who are thrown out on a _regular_ basis for being different, for thinking critically, for speaking their minds, for wanting something _other_ than a Noxian-hating life in the military? Do _they_ get any of Demacia’s generous aid? _No_. They’re left out to starve and fend for themselves against the vicious gangs that war against each other on the streets. So yes, Garen, I _hate_ you. I hate everything you are, everything about you, and most importantly, everything you try so hard to represent.” He stared at her, again dumbfounded, but mostly silent. He had no comeback for her rant, he didn’t even seem to be angry with her. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” she said after a drawn out pause, “Sona is expecting me.” He vaguely nodded and she left down the corridor.

When she slammed the door to the training room behind her as hard as her metal arm would allow, everyone jumped. All eyes turned to her, and she glared back.

“What are _you_ looking at?” All of the eyes returned to what they were doing except two, who dared to float closer. When Sona neared, she held up a sign.

 _Everything OK?_ She sighed heavily, rubbing a hand against her forehead.

“No, Sona. I just spilled my guts to Garen Crownguard. He’s one of my least favorite people in all of Valoran, and I just told him not five minutes ago exactly why.” She growled a little under her breath, and Sona nodded, touching her shoulder gently. “I’ll be fine, let’s just get started.”


	11. It's an Arcade Skin

Letting off steam, it turned out, was very good for Elaida. It was something she hadn’t had a chance to do for a while, and if the condition the punching bag she’d been given was in was any indicator, it may have been a little too long. Stretching her neck and shoulders out, she heard a whistle of admiration over her shoulder. She turned and saw none other than Leona standing behind her with a toothy grin.

“Damn, girl,” she started in a very non-formal tone that took Elaida off guard, “looks like you’ve been needing a day off for some time.” She chuckled lightly, scratching the back of her neck in a way that exposed her surprise. Leona laughed, shaking her head before holding up her hands. “C’mon, try that again, this time _harder_.”

An hour later, Elaida was flat on her back on the training mat _again_. Her body was wrought with pain, but a good kind of pain. Leona grinned, extending a helping hand up which Elaida took gladly. They gave each other a moment to stretch out and rest, sweat dripping from both their faces. Even though Elaida lost every round with the Rakkor warrior, she was pleased that she seemed to be giving the Sun Champion a run for her money.

“You’re pretty good for someone who’s untrained,” Leona commented, touching her toes a few times to get some soreness from a particularly hard knee jab from Elaida earlier out.

“That’s a rumor, actually,” she responded, breathless. “I served three years in the Demacian military.” Leona looked confused.

“I heard you were-” She nodded.

“Branded disabled, yeah. They only gave me the disabled label _after_ my arm almost came loose during a sparring match because it wasn’t fitted correctly at that point. Between the time I got it and the time I started military service, I never had the money to refit it correctly as I grew and matured. So, they viewed it as a liability instead of an asset and put me on the disabled service list.” Leona shook her head in distaste.

“It’s a pity your lot fell that way. You would have been great among the Rakkor.” Elaida smiled gently.

“Thank you, Leona. I’m honored.” Leona grinned, nodding. A moment later, they were back to sparring.

No less than an hour later, Elaida was back in her room, lying in bed, sore from nose to ankle. She hadn’t had such a rigorous workout in… ever. She remained motionless as the door was knocked on and creaked open. She was dozing, somewhere between conscious and unconsciousness when she heard a gentle voice calling her name. Rolling her still-shut eyes, she sat up in bed and glared at the voice’s owner.

“Yes, Hera?” The tall woman gritted her teeth once more.

“It seems that the Summoners want to release your first skin. They have already decided how you will look.” Hera held up a poster.

_Ten minutes later…_

_**BANG BANG BANG.**_

“SUMMONERS!” Elaida screamed through the door, “SUMMONERS! OPEN UP!” A few seconds later, the door opened and a small yordle stood on the other side, somehow both looking snobbish and terrified at the same time. She’d be impressed if she wasn’t so infuriated. “Get. Me. The. Summoners.” She growled between her teeth.

“Th-they’re not seeing anyone right now, Ch-Champion-”

“I don’t _care_. Where are the Summoners?”

“They’re in meditation, Champion. I-I can take a message.” He swallowed thickly, obviously trying to get her to leave as quickly as possible. Elaida heard a, ‘told you so’ from Hera over her shoulder, with Aphrodite and Athena standing a few feet behind.

“Tell them my _first skin_ will absolutely _not_ , under _any_ circumstances be an _ARCADE SKIN_.” She shoved the poster that Hera had been holding a few minutes prior at the yordle, her anger ready to boil over any second, and then shut the door for him so he couldn’t hand it back. Turning on her heel, she marched past the dressers. “I will be in the kitchens if and when they decide to get back to you.” Hera’s sigh was the only thing Elaida heard before she turned down a hall and out of earshot.

Upon entering the hall, she saw Sona and Graves sitting together at a small, round table. As she walked in, Sona spotted her and waved her over, grinning. With a deep breath to calm herself, Elaida walked to the Champions’ table and threw herself into a chair across from them, still grumbling beneath her breath.

“Hi.” She said bluntly, not even trying to hide her temper. Sona’s eyes widened a little and Graves just chuckled.

“What crawled up your ass and died?” She had to snort at that, in spite of her foul mood.

“The Summoners. They’ve _decided upon_ my first skin for me.” She grumbled a bit more.

 _What is it?_ Read Sona’s sign, and she sighed heavily.

“It’s an Arcade skin.” For possibly the first time in Sona’s life, she had to actually fight to stay silent. “No offense, Sona, because your Arcade skin looks _kick. ass._ I love yours.” Graves nodded in agreement through his body-wracking laughter, “Vi’s is okay, and Hecarim’s isn’t too shabby. Mine looked _stupid_ as _fuck_. I had pink hair! Pink. Hair, Sona. Absolutely not. No, end of story. I’ll go to jail, thanks. I’m not having an Arcade skin, period.” Malcolm shook his head, still laughing.

“You would’ve been _beautiful_ in a Debonair skin like Vi and I have, even Jinx’s Mafia skin ain’t too bad.” Elaida solemnly nodded in agreement. “Well, if they’re intention was to make ya mad, they certainly accomplished it.” Snorting again, she nodded once more.

“No shit. Again,” she turned to the Champion who had tears streaming down her cheeks, “no offense, Sona.” She waved her off.

“Don’t worry ‘bout ‘er,” Malcolm interjected before she could write anything down, “she tends to take comments like that in stride. She knows y’don’t mean nothin’ by it.” Elaida gave them a curious glance before looking away. “Wha?”

“You two are very close.” He suddenly got very serious (OOC: WOULD YOU SAY HE BECAME VERY… GRAVE??).

“Got a problem with that, missy?” She shook her head, holding her hands up in surrender.

“Not at all, I can just remember back home, sometimes we’d get to talking about ya’ll during the matches. Citizens of Demacia are required to watch all of Jarvan’s matches, y’know? So we’d get to talking. We’d try to guess who would become friends, who might try dating, that kind of random stuff. I just never guessed you two…” Sona suddenly flushed a deep, deep red, as did Malcolm.

“I-It’s nothin’ like that, we’re just friends.” He quickly amended and it was Elaida’s turn to turn red.

“Oh! I am _so_ sorry, I didn’t mean to impl-”

“Don’t, let’s just, uh, talk about somethin’ else.”

“Right. Let’s. So how did you two meet?” She almost abrasively changed the subject, though not by much.

“Bot lane, duh.” He rolled his eyes at her. Sona was busy scribbling something away on her pad, and Graves decided to pause long enough to let her hold up her sign.

 

_First, no harm done, I understand the Arcade look isn’t for everyone. I agree, it would look rather foolish on you. I do hope they do something different from your current look, though, because it would be interesting to see (not because I don’t like your current look, it’s a good look, but change is good too). Malcolm and I are friends only. I’ve had more than one ask about our relationship, so I try to stop any rumors from appearing as much as I can before they can spread. Yes, we met in bot lane, but we became friends because Graves had a favor to ask._ By the time Elaida finished reading all of that, Malcolm had turned red once more and Sona was grinning devilishly. She simply gave the mute woman a curious look, who gave Malcolm a pointed look, who blushed even more.

“I-I may h-have not-so-decent intentions towards another young miss who occasionally shares bot lane with me…” Sona turned the pad around, rolling her eyes, and then spelled something out before turning it back to Elaida.

 _LEONA_. Elaida so badly didn’t want to laugh. She really, really didn’t want to. But once the guffaw left her mouth, her resolve was gone.

“B-But you’re so different!” He rolled his eyes with a ‘hmph’.

“Yeah, well, wha’ ‘bout you? You got yer eyes on anyone? I ‘eard somethin’ about you and one of the Noxian’s.” She narrowed her eyes in confusion, tilting her head to one side before realization dawned.

“Darius? We’ve met, but that’s all. I’ve had more conversations with you at this point than I have him. He and Draven have been gone the last several days; went back home to take care of some business.”

 _I heard you got into a fight with Garen this morning. Is that what you meant when you ‘spilled your guts to him’?_ Elaida sighed, scratching the back of her neck.

“Yeah. I’ve spent my whole life glaring up at him, Lux, Jarvan and the rest. I’ve hated them with every fiber of my being for as long as I can remember. Which was always easy because I was living in poverty and they were the noble and ruling class. It’s easy to hate someone you’ve never met. Now I’m here and I somehow have to be able to interact with them, and Garen caught me off guard and then he wouldn’t _shut up_ and couldn’t get the hint I did _not_ want to speak to him an-”

“Woah, slow down there, missy.” Elaida huffed.

“Sorry, Malcolm. Today’s been rough.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Sounds like it. Look, head on back to yer room and get some good shut eye. You’ll feel better by dinner.”

 _And not be so sore after that sparring match with Leona this afternoon._ Elaida nodded, standing up and stretch her sore bones.

“That sounds like an excellent idea. Sona, could you come and wake me for dinner if I don’t seem to be showing up?” The mute nodded, “Thank you. Have a nice rest of your afternoon.” Both bid her farewell, and when Elaida got back to her room, it was thankfully quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm thinking Cybergoth for her first skin?  
> http://funguerilla.com/images/strange-weird/cybergoth/cybergoth03.jpg  
> ^Something like that? Or. Idk. Send me suggestions!


	12. A Long Time Ago

When Elaida awoke some hours later, Sona was standing over her shoulder, rocking her fleshly arm a little. A sign was already in her hand, reading You asked me to come wake you so don’t be grouchy. which just made Elaida laugh. Sitting up and stretching, she scratched at her jaw before turning lazy eyes towards the older woman.

“Dinner ready?” She nodded. “Cool, le’s go.”

When they entered the Kitchens together, it couldn’t have been more lively. Glancing around the room in surprise, she realized quickly that almost every Champion was present (excluding Malzahar, Kog’Maw, Cho’Gath, Kha’Zix, Vel’Koz, Anivia, Fiddlesticks, Nocturne and Shaco) and dining with their friends. All the Demacian nobles sat at a table at one far end of the room, while all the Noxian nobles (except Darius and Draven, who hadn’t returned yet) sat at a table at the other far end of the room. The tables in the middle were the Yordle, Zaun, Pentakill, Shadow Isle, and the three Freljord tables. Lissandra and Trundle sat in a dark corner close to the Noxian’s alone, speaking in soft tones, while Ashe, Tryndamere and their friends sat closer to the Demacians. Ashe seemed to barely speak at all, while Tryndamere, Braum and Gragas’ voices boomed.

Without warning, Elaida suddenly felt light-headed, her stomach knotting in pain while she clutched Sona’s shoulder for support. The woman immediately turned and did her best to hold onto Elaida, worry all over her face. The Avarosan table was the closest to them, and so Braum noticed right away what was happening and quickly went to the two women, also concerned.

“Are you alright?” He asked in a tone too delicate for a man of his stature. She groaned softly before nodding.

“Yeah, I just realized I’ve spent all day pissed off and working out and I haven’t had a _single thing to eat_.” Sona’s laugh was silent as usual, shaking her head. Braum also chuckled.

“Where would you like to sit? I’ll bring you a meal.”

“You don’t ha-”

“I insist.” Braum stated firmly, and Sona pointed to a table that was unoccupied except by Malcolm Graves. Elaida nodded, also pointing to the table, “Go and rest, I’ll be back in a moment,” Braum said before moving away towards where a large array of food was laid out.

Sona waved to get Malcolm’s attention, and upon noticing, he came over and half-carried Elaida to his table. By the time he sat her down, Braum had reappeared with two plates stacked a foot high each with food. He set the two down in front of her, quietly wished her well, and returned to his table. Sona motioned towards the Pentakill table, Malcolm nodded understanding, and Sona floated away as well. Elaida stared at the two plates in front of her, her eyes almost as big as the large mounds of food. Malcolm laughed.

“Never seen this much food at once, have ya?”

“Once, a long time ago.”

“Eat up, then!”

An hour later, Elaida sat with her upper body resting on the table, the two plates shoved away. They were far from empty, but the remaining food looked barely edible. Graves explained that some of it was from Bilgewater, raw fish, sushi, and the like which Demacian Elaida had never seen before. The rest was from Noxius and Freljord with their own kinds of bizarre delicacies. Graves ate a bit of her leftovers as she laid there, groaning.

 

“I think your eyes were too big for your stomach, girly.” He chuckled as he popped one of the sushi rolls into his mouth. She groaned again and nodded. “When was the last time you ate that much?

“I was seven,” she mumbled, “living in House Brightsworn. I ate so much that night I threw up half of it later.” He laughed again, still shaking his head. “I’m going to get a cup of water to wash this down, eat whatever you want,” she grumbled out as she stood, stretching a little before moving away. Once she’d fetched her cup, she turned around without noticing the dark figure behind her and suddenly dumped water all down the front of the person. “Oh god! I am so sorry! Here, let me-” Gentle but firm hands clasped hers, and an all-too familiar voice murmured to her.

“It’s alright, Elaida, water doesn’t hurt anything.” With an almost silent gasp, Elaida’s eyes wandered up to see the face of the man she once considered like a father.

“Lucian?” He smiled gently, almost sorrowfully, nodding. “Lucian. Oh my god. Lucian.”

“Before you say anything else,” he murmured so no one else would hear, “I want to say I’m sorry for what happened, and I understand if you never want to speak to me outside the Fields of Justice.” Her jaw dropped, not expecting those to be his words. “It was wrong of me to leave you behind in more ways than I dare to count. I know you knew how to survive alone, but that doesn’t mean it was right of me to leave you alone-”a finger touched his lips.

“Lucian, that was a long time ago. I can honestly say I’m grateful for you leaving me, because if you hadn’t I don’t know what kind of person I would be today. I don’t know that I’d be alive. Besides we both know that you needed time alone to sort yourself out after what happened to Senna. Sure, the streets were a bad option, too, but… I have long since forgiven you.” She smiled a little, “So can we be friends again?” Tears were already brimming in the Purifier’s eyes, and without a word, he wrapped her in a tight hug which she happily returned. When they finally separated, Lucian brought a hand up to cup her cheek.

“We’ll talk soon, okay?” Elaida nodded, tears also in her eyes, and he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I have missed you, and I am glad to see you’re alive and well.” Before she could respond, he’d pulled away from her completely and disappeared into the crowd of Champions. Emotional and a little shell-shocked, Elaida stood there for another moment, breathing in what just happened. When she took the reigns of her body again, she grabbed another cup of water and made her way back to a very curious Malcolm.

“Y’wanna ‘splain-”reaching across the table, Elaida grasped his hand firmly.

“Later, Malcolm,” with an understanding nod, they quickly changed subject.

The next day, of course, was back to regular matches. Turned out that Elaida was booked every day solid with matches between then and the next Patch Day, which was also the day that Darius and Draven would be returning. She woke up, went to the Summoning Pad in her pajamas, fought hard all day, went back to her room where there was food waiting for her, ate, and slept. Rinse, wash, repeat. Every day for seven days. But the first match of the day after patches was the most surprising. With her stomach still sore and her intestines now cross with her, she arrived at Blue Base with a strange distortion. When she finally fully arrived, she glanced around and noticed something… peculiar. Everything was black and white. Glancing down at herself, she wasn’t in her normal clothes, but a loose fitting sweater, a pair of jeans, and shiny shoes that were almost too big. Glancing up, Graves who was carrying in bot lane that match, grinned.

“Looks like the Summoners agreed with you. Your first skin is Noir Elaida.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured after the last chapter was so long, this one oughta be a little shorter.


	13. All the World on One Arrow

The last match of the week before Patch Day was the hardest on Elaida. She almost didn’t show up to the Summoning Platform for her exhaustion. When she did, however, she quickly noticed her team wasn’t a semi-random assortment like it normally was. Ashe, Tryndamere and Braum stood close together while Gragas stretched a little off to the side. Braum, again, noticed her first and smiled before coming near. Ashe and Tryndamere stayed together, murmuring in hushed tones.

“What’s going on?” Elaida asked an in exhausted tone.

“We are fighting Sejuani and Lissandra for an important strategic place in Freljord. After our meeting last week, I recommended to Queen Ashe that you take up a role in our fight today,” her eyes widened considerably, “Queen Ashe concurred, and we all hope that you will be willing to aid in our fight for what was once your family’s homeland,” now she looked confused. “Queen Ashe discovered your heritage, and why you have such snow-white hair. Your mother was Avarosan, was she not?”

“Well, yeah.” She sighed, scratching the back of her neck as per her usual habit, “Alright, yeah, if you guys need someone I’ll help out.” He grinned widely, clapping her back harder than necessary.

“Excellent! You will do well in our top lane. King Tryndamere will aid you as best he can; he jungles today.” She raises an eyebrow, Tryndamere jungling? New one.

“Alright, good. So you and Ashe are bottom and Gragas is going mid lane?” Braum nodded, fierce determination in his eyes, “I think we can handle this.”

_An hour later…_

“WHY DID I SAY WE COULD HANDLE THIS?” Elaida yelled at Braum, who shrugged in return.

Elaida turned and cast her slow, nets spinning out of Dragonsbreath at a charging Sejuani, Lissandra, Volibear, Zyra and Varus behind them. Just as those landed, a large, frozen, shiny arrow soared overhead, landing right in Lissandra’s face. With a howl of excitement, Elaida stopped completely and opened fire on the oncoming team, just as Tryndamere appeared next to her, dragging his way-too-big sword behind him. A battle cry came from his lips as he spun into their team, his sword cutting up Zyra’s bushes and Sejuani’s boar. Braum also let out a battle cry, charging in with his shield and slamming it into the nearest person, in this instance, Varus. A volley of frozen arrows and bullets rained down on Volibear as he tried to make his way through the madness, only for Gragas to suddenly appear on the other side of their team and start launching barrels into them.

Ashe let up long enough on Volibear to start releasing arrows almost faster than anyone could see on Varus, aiding her support, and finally kill the rat. Before anyone was totally sure what happened, the loud, booming voice of the announcer called out, “PENTAKILL!” All turned and gave Ashe their biggest grins, who only smirked in response.

“All the world on one arrow.” 

The tide of the battle quickly turned after that, Varus and Zyra losing confidence in their teammates. They’d had an easier time during the laning phase, Braum really no match for Zyra, but they struggled in group fights with how strong Tryndamere’s jungling had been. Volibear tried to counter jungle, but as soon as the spinning madman arrived, Volibear was cut down and all his buffs handed over to the King of Avarosa. In midlane, Lissandra had given Gragas plenty of trouble, but his tower still stood - if barely. Up in top lane, Elaida had slaughtered the Troll King every time she saw him; Tryndamere didn’t go up there to help even once. She didn’t need it.

When the game was finally over, thankfully in their favor, they were all grinning. Braum, Tryndamere and Gragas clapped her on the back harder than was necessary, nearly causing Elaida to collapse. She gave them a weak smile and all three men turned to leave. Ashe waited for Elaida to gather herself before speaking.

“Elaida,” she murmured, her voice soft as usual, and Elaida looked up, “Thank you for aiding us today. This was a great victory for my people, and one in which you were not required to fight. You have my gratitude.” Elaida tightened her jaw, looking away for a moment.

“I did, Your Majesty. I did have to fight today. Braum was right, my mother was Avarosan, and if the Avarosan people ever require my aid again, you know where to find me.” She extended an arm with a steely expression. Ashe, with a gentle look, extended her arm as well, their hands clasping each other’s elbows as warriors do.

“If more Demacians were like you,” Ashe commented when they released each other, “perhaps there would be an allegiance between our peoples.” A thoughtful look flickered across Elaida’s face.

“Perhaps an allegiance between you and I will be where it begins?” She asked hopefully. Ashe chuckled.

“Are you asking if we can be friends?”

“I am.” Ashe examined her briefly.

“Why? What use of me do you have?”

“I have spent my life in the presence of enemies. It is likely at the end of my ten years here, I will die one last time, and I would like the time between now and then to be among friends.” Ashe nodded after considering this response.

“Consider yourself always welcome at both the Avarosan table, and in Rakelskate.” With that, Ashe departed. Weary, Elaida wandered towards her room, dragging her gun behind. At the entrance to her dorm stood a familiar, floating figure who came near as soon as their eyes met.

“Hey Sona,” Elaida mumbled as the mute grabbed Dragonsbreath, hoisting the very heavy gun as Elaida unlocked the door. Dragonsbreath was set down just inside the doorway, and Sona gave Elaida a hug. “Sup?”

 _I’ve heard you’ve had a hard week_ , read Sona’s sign when she finally stopped hugging her long enough to retrieve it, _and I heard you’ve become friends with Queen Ashe. Good job!_ Elaida laughed.

“Wow, news travels fast, huh?”

 _You walk slow when you’re tired._ She rolled her eyes, turning away from the floating woman.

“Y’wanna spend the night since you’re here already? I can take the couch.” Sona shook her head.

 _No, I simply wanted to make sure you were alright. I’ll let you rest now, don’t forget to take the medicine from Singed._ Elaida nodded, and then waved as Sona retreated into the hallway once more. She was asleep before her face hit the pillow.

The next day was, again Patch Day. Elaida slept until well after lunch, waking up only to use the bathroom. She’s unsure of the time when she finally decided to roll out of bed, all that she’s certain of is that there’s someone else in the room. Retrieving the gun from under her pillow, she sits up straight and aims it at the figure, only to set it down again with a short laugh.

“Lucian. You scared me.” The Purifier chuckled.

“Sorry, your door was left unlocked. When you didn’t respond, I decided to make sure you were alright.”

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Only a moment; your instincts have improved.” She stretches her neck and back.

“Thanks. What are you doing here?”

“I came to deliver a message: Garen Crownguard seeks your presence.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Really? You came all the way over here for that?”

“I’m right down the hall from you, for starters,” she glared at him as she stood, and he turned around as she started stripping off her clothes. “Second, I’m still technically a citizen of Demacia, even though I haven’t lived there in almost ten years, and as such answer to Garen and Jarvan. Third, he has a proposition for you I think would be wise for you to take.” Flicking him on the back of his ear as she moved past him, she went and flopped herself down on the couch in the room adjacent to her bedroom.

“Why do you say that?” She asked as he sat next to her as well.

“Because I think you’ll learn something about Demacia, about Garen, and most importantly, about yourself if you go. You’ll also learn some things about politics and the larger world outside of Demacia, because goodness knows you haven’t had a proper education in years. The League is designed around politics, and it’s something you know almost nothing about. You’ll get eaten alive if you try to stay under your rock any longer.” She rolled her eyes.

“I already have been, thanks,” he stares at her in bewilderment, “Cho’Gath. Anyway, I don’t appreciate him sending you when he knows you and I have a past. He’s manipulating me.”

“He wants to see you and you don’t trust him. What else was he supposed to do? Besides, it’ll give you an excuse to get out of here for a day.” She threw her hands up in the air, frustrated.

“Alright, alright, I’ll talk to him.” Lucian gives her a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Elaida.”

She soon found herself standing in front of Garen Crownshield's door. Unarmed, alone, defenseless. She mentally berated herself, how could she be so stupid? Sighing in frustration at herself, she throws caution to the wind and knocks. By the time Garen opens the door, she's leaning against the door frame, the picture of lazy impatience.

"Hi." She states, and Garen tries to smile.

“Thank you for coming. Please, come in,” he gestures to the room behind himself, and she pushes herself off the frame. Wandering in, she notices his space is considerably larger than her own. He has a dinette, a morning room, a private office, and small living room, and two doors that were shut. “That door is the restroom if you have need,” he said, indicating to one of the shut doors. She assumes the other one leads to his bedroom. She nods in thanks, and he leads her into his office.

She kicks the door shut behind them, raising a curious eyebrow at him. He gestures to the chair across the desk from himself, and she plops down into it at the same time he gracefully sits behind the desk.

“Did Lucian mentioned why I asked you to come see?” She shakes her head. “This issue is… layered, in many ways, so please allow me to explain it to it’s fullest.” With a sigh, she gestures for him to go on. “Next weekend there is a dance, hosted by House Lightshield. All of the noble families are invited and can bring guests; I would like you to attend as mine.” She can’t help the grin.

“Are you asking me out, Garen Crownshield?” He stutters, flustering.

“N-No, Miss Elaida,” _So he doesn’t know I’m still technically a Brightsworn and thereby invited on my own, interesting._ “As I said, this issue is very layered. On the foremost, I believe that you have a…. misconception about me. I want the chance to at least lessen your hatred toward me, and if I am very fortunate, perhaps even earn your friendship and trust. The only way that I can foreseeably go about such a task is to spend time with you. There is also that, and I’m sorry I have to be the one to say this, the Demacian people have a…. mixed view of you. Should your approval rating as a Champion fall too far, the courts will pull you out of the League and put you in prison or worse.” Elaida’s eyes widen considerably at this.

“What? No! They can’t do that! We had a deal!” She stands, furious, and he stands as well, trying to ease her temper. “The Summoners would nev-”

“The Summoners have no say. Demacia sent you, and if Demacia decides you’re not representing, Demecia brings you home. They can and will pull you out if you don’t give them reason to like you.” Slackjawed, she seems to grasp for something to refute him with, and he sighs. “I know, when I found out I wasn’t pleased either. Something that will help would be to get the support of the other Champions. You already have Jarvan’s, Sona’s, Lucian’s and mine, Lux and Vayne are on the fence, but Kayle, Fiora, Quinn and Shyvana are less than impressed. Kayle can only be won through displays and great deeds; she lives for a battle’s glory and the justice that it brings. Fiora you’ll have to defeat in single combat; I recommend using anything but swords, you’ll lose every time. She beats me almost too easily. Quinn and Vayne are puzzles, I’m not sure how you’ll win their support. Shyvana only respects those with legitimate authority, even if you’re not above her. If you have some form of real title, she’ll honor you. Lux will be the easiest to sway, she’s already told me that she’ll give you her support if you go to the dinner.” By the time Garen’s finished, Elaida’s sitting back in the chair, her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. She doesn’t respond immediately, so Garen takes that as cue to go on. “There’s also the last layer of the matter,” Elaida throws her hands up in the air.

“There’s more?!” Garen chuckles almost awkwardly, nodding. “Alright, alright, what is it?”

“I’ve come to understand that you have earned Queen Ashe’s trust.” The hairs on the back of Elaida’s neck stand up, something isn’t right.

“ _Why_?” He immediately takes note that he’ll have to tread carefully here.

“The Freljord peoples and the Demacians have always had a… turbulent relationship. If there’s anyone we want in power in Freljord, it’s going to be Ashe. Sejuani is too foolhardy and reckless, and Lissandra seems to have a yet unknown ulterior motive. However, those on the outskirts of Demacia have not had a similar view of Freljord as we have, and any refugees after large battles are always turned away. I have convinced Jarvan that it’s time Demacia takes a much more firm stand in the battle between Noxus and Freljord. I spoke with Lucian about your capabilities as a negotiator, and he told me some of your days brokering deals in the low-income areas of Demacia. If you were half as successful as he claims, I think you’re the perfect person to negotiate an alliance between us and the Avarosans.” Elaida holds up a hand to stop him for a moment.

“So what you’re telling me is, you want me to use my new friendship with Ashe to broker a deal between Demacia and Freljord. This is almost too low for you, Garen. This is cunning, manipulative, underhanded even.” He sighs, and before he can begin trying to explain himself, she cuts him off. “What’s in it for me?” A look of bewilderment flickers past Garen’s features, and he clears his throat.

“For starters, a day spent not-here. Second, you’ll have an opportunity to win some of the Demacian popular vote, and as I said, Lux’s by going and negotiating with Ashe. Sona also said she will be there, so you’ll have her to talk to as well, since Queen Ashe and King Tryndamere will not be staying the entire party-” Elaida rubs a hand over her face and stands abruptly.

“Give me a few days to think it over.” He nods and she shows herself out before he can get up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ashe is one of my favorite champs. Don't judge.


	14. High Praise

When Elaida arrives at the training center that afternoon, she drops to the floor at the last second as an axe comes whizzing by her face. A loud laugh is heard from the other side of the room, followed by a higher, girly laugh. Sitting up, Elaida realizes that the axe belonged to none other than Draven, and he and Annie were the ones laughing.

“Sorry about them,” says a familiar, gentle voice from above, and a large hand extends itself to her to aid her up. “This is their way of having fun,” once Elaida’s on her feet again, she smiles at Darius.

“No worries; how was your trip?” He rolls his eyes.

“Uneventful, and your week?”

“Too eventful. I was in every single match since last Patch Day.” He whistles, shaking his head as the two move towards some swords. He picks one out and starts striking it against a dummy.

“That’s not uncommon, but I still pity you a little. It’s already hard adjusting, but that many games right away has very nearly killed more than one Champion.” She nods as she watches him, and when he stops for a breath, he turns to her again. “Listen, I know what you said last time about not being able to go anywhere with a Demacian escort, but I think I have something figured out. Two weeks from now, Draven and I are hosting a party at our house. We do this every year. The main party is all Noxian and Zaun nobles, fine dining, all that junk you have to do to keep in the League. The Afterparty is all Draven. Wild, loud, lots of lights, lights of music, classic Draven. There’s no invite list to that party; anyone can come. The party also doesn’t stop until everyone’s gone, so it’s been known to go on for days. Sona’s coming as the DJ. I’ve heard you two are friends, so perhaps you could work something out?” Elaida grins, biting her lower lip.

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll talk to her about it. Now, about these swords...”

Darius and Elaida spend almost every waking moment of the next few days together. They find each other easy to talk to, easy to be with, as there’s no expectations on them as who they’re _supposed_ to be and how they’re _supposed_ to act. Elaida ends up worming out of Darius that his affections lie with Riven, but he’s unsure how to approach her and is afraid she wouldn’t welcome his advances. Darius gets Elaida to admit to the invitation from Garen, and she explains how it’s a convoluted mess. Before she can stop herself, she accidentally slips out the part about Ashe being there, and he informs her that he’s considering this conversation to be in confidence. She chooses not to go into any further detail on that part, but explains how she could get pulled by not being popular enough. He shakes his head but nods, explaining the same is true everywhere.

“Who do you need to get approval from among the Champions to stay?”

“Almost everyone. Lux, Vayne, Kayle, Fiora, Quinn and Shyvana.” He gives her a curious stare.

“Not Jarvan? He already likes you?” Stopping, she turns and returns his stare.

“I hadn’t really thought about it. When Garen was listing the Champions who already have given me their support, he listed Jarvan among them but didn’t explain why.” Darius examines her a little.

“Well, I don’t see why he wouldn’t. You’re strong, proven already you can lead a team in a tight spot, you think on your feet,you come up with unorthodox but viable solutions to tough problems, you have a skill set that we’re all still learning about but I’m always impressed, you’re capable and independent. You prove again and again that you’re an asset long before you’re a liability. He’d be a fool not to recognize your potential. Your only downfall as a soldier is your lack of compliance, but you’ve shown you can use it to your advantage before and I’m sure you will again.” Elaida stares at him, slackjawed.

“High praise.” Is her only comment in response and he laughs.

“Nothing that wasn’t true.”

Elaida finds herself standing before Garen’s door again, and she’s hesitant. Darius finally got pulled away from her side by Katarina, whose ferocity was something that Elaida had made a note to not cross. She bites her lip. At least this way, she’d be getting something out of it… right? Her fist raises and she knocks twice. She’s just about to turn away and go look for him elsewhere when the door swings open. When she looks, she almost has to divert her eyes.

“Heya Lux.” The lightcaster chuckles.

“Greetings, Elaida. Are you looking for Garen?” Elaida nods and Lux looks back over her shoulder, “Garen! Elaida’s here for you!”

“Send her in!” Comes the boom in reply, and both girls laugh. Lux waves her in, mumbles a goodbye and departs. Elaida finds Garen a moment later in his office again, looking over a few letters that bare Demacian insignias. Elaida’s curious, but she knows better than to overstep her bounds. “Greetings, Elaida,” his deep voice rumbles, “how may I help you?”

“I’m here about the party.” His eyes widen ever so slightly with hope.

“Yes?”

“I had a couple of questions.” The hope dashes away.

“I cannot reduce your time here, I already asked. I don’t have that kind of-”Elaida shakes her head.

“That’s not what I was going to ask.” Her hands go into her pants pockets as she stands there as uncomfortable as she was last time. “I figured that would be nowhere near the table, or else we would’ve discussed it last time I was here.” He nods for her to go on. “I suppose I should start with the easy question. You mentioned the Champions of Demacia and listed those who support me. I know why Lucian and Sona do, they’re friends. You’re anyone’s guess,” Garen chuckles, “but you also mentioned Jarvan. I was hoping you could elaborate.”

“Jarvan was the first to mention inviting you to the party. He was the one who also suggested I invite you. He sees you as reasonable, coherent, capable, independent, a leader… He’s said more nice things about you since your arrival then I think I’ve ever heard him say of anyone. He respects you deeply, as a soldier, a warrior, and as a person. He said once after reading some of your backstory that he couldn’t imagine going through a fraction of what you have and coming out on the other side.” Elaida snorts, shaking her head. “What?”

“I just never would’ve imagined the Prince of Demacia…” She laughs softly and he smiles briefly.

“What was the other issue?”

“I’m here to make a deal. Look, the rules of this gig are I’m not allowed to leave without Demacian escort. You want to be my escort to this party next week. I have been invited to another party the following week, but it’s not being held in Demacia.”

“Where is it?”

“Everything will be fine, I already asked the host and they said-”

“Where is it?”

“... Noxus. Draven’s hosting.”

30 minutes later…

“ _ **THESE ARE NOXIANS WE’RE DISCUSSING HERE, ELAIDA, I CANNOT BELIEVE FOR A MOMENT THAT**_ -”

“I don’t understand, Garen! It’s a party for a party!”

“ _ **THAT IS BESIDE THE POINT**_.”

“I don’t have any other way of going!”

“ _ **THAT IS ALSO BESIDE THE POINT**_.”

“Sona’s going to be there!”

“ _ **WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE TO ME WHO OR WHO IS NOT GOING TO THIS INFERNAL**_ -wait. Sona’s going?” Elaida blinks rapidly a few times.

“You like her.” Garen rolls his eyes.

“If Sona’s going, why didn’t you ask her to be your escort?”

“Why aren’t you yelling at her for going but you’re yelling at me?”

“Because Sona’s Sona and she’ll never do what anyone asks because she’s listed as Semi-Independent so she doesn’t have to listen to anyone.” Elaida rolls her eyes. “You can’t be listed as Semi-Independent or Independent because you’re here serving time.”

“Whatever. Sona’s going as the DJ, so she’ll be too busy to really be my escort since my escort has to be with me the entire time I’m there. We already talked about it. I still think you like her.” Garen sighs.

“I care for Sona a great deal as a friend. However, I… would not be disinclined to allow our friendship to evolve into more… should she be interested.” He puts on that pouty-thinking face people do, his lips moving to one side.

“C’mon, Garen,” Elaida pleads from the chair she at one point moved into during the argument, “you want to earn my trust? Then trust me a little. Friendship’s a two-way street, and you’re asking a lot from me. You gotta give, too.” Garen stares at her for a long pause, then finally huffs.

“Fine. I’ll escort you to Draven’s party if you do everything I have asked from you at House Lightshield’s party.” Elaida’s eyes brighten, “If only to ensure that you and Sona both return home safely.”

“If you back out on me-”

“I’m a man of honor, Elaida. I would never back out of a deal.” Elaida extends her hand.

“Then shake on it.” He stares at her hand, something unreadable flashing across his face before he makes eye contact and extends his hand as well, shaking hers. Excitement overcomes her, she pumps the air with her fist, dashes around Garen’s desk and hugs him tight. “Thank you! Thank you! You won’t regret it, promise.” She dashes out of the room before he can say anything further.


	15. The New Battlefront

The rest of the weekend comes and goes. Elaida’s spare time is spent with either Graves and Sona or Darius. When Patch Day cycles around again, Elaida awakens bright and early for the first time, this time with a note on her door from the Summoners.

_Champion,_

_During this patch, your battle prowess will be seeing a significant decrease. You should notice a difference tomorrow in your first battle. This will be your only notice._

_-Summoners_

Elaida shoves the notice into a pocket as she makes her way down to the training center. At dinner the night prior, Leona invited her to come and spar with her and Pantheon the next morning, so she had made sure to get enough sleep. Upon arrival, she notices Draven, Annie and Darius in one corner, all three looking up when she enters and waving. She gives them a wave back, then sees Garen and Shyvana sparring in another corner, the two grunting and growling at each other. Neither notices her entrance. On the right wall, Lux and Ahri are casting a significant number of spells at each other with Sona refereeing. When Ahri tries to make a dirty move, a simple strum of Sona’s etwahl cancels Ahri’s spell mid-cast and then sends the fox-lady flying into the wall. Sona’s stern look is almost laughable, but Ahri apologizes softly to both her and Lux, and the two resume combat. On the left wall is Leona, Pantheon, Lee-Sin, Akali, Kennen and Shen. The former two were doing a few warm up stretches while the latter four meditated. Leona waves over Elaida upon seeing her, grinning.

“See, I told you she’d be here!” Laughing, Elaida shakes her head as the four meditating stop and get up. Pantheon also stops stretching, but his expression is unreadable through his mask.

“ _Really_ , Leona?” Leona’s grin only widens.

“They thought you were going to sleep half the day again. I defended you.” All four of the martial artists put their right fists in their left palms and bow to her. Unsure of what to do, Elaida simply mimics their gesture in return. Leona gives her a slight, almost unnoticeable nod of approval. When the four resume standing, Lee-Sin gives her a bright smile.

“Greetings, Demacian. Leona asked the four of us to come to improve your hand-to-hand technique.” Elaida’s eyes widen, and she gives Leona a terrified look, who simply nods encouragingly.

_Two hours later..._

“Oh my _god_ , Shen, touch me one more time and I’ll rip your balls off.” The ninja stops just before kicking Elaida’s side, actually pausing to consider how real or not the threat presented actually is. Akali laughs in the background.

“About finished?” Comes the chirp of a voice behind Elaida, another she could pick out literally anywhere. Turning, she gives Lux her best smile.

“I think so, why?” Lux’s smile looks about as real as Elaida’s feels.

“We need to have your dress made for this weekend.” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Leona turn towards Pantheon, her shoulders rolling. “That is if you’re still planning on attending.” Instead of allowing the blood to drain from her face, she matches Lux’s stare without missing a beat.

“Absolutely. Let’s go.” Lux’s smile turns into something genuine, and the two walk out together. She can feel Darius’ eyes drilling into the back of her neck.

_A half hour later…_

“Gold is all the rage in Demacia right now, Elaida. Besides, it’ll look good with your hair color.” Hera says as she holds a short gold dress over Elaida’s front, who shakes her head.

“I don’t know…”

“I’m with Elaida on this one, gold is all the rage, which means _everyone_ will be in it. No one knows Elaida, I think we should play up the mystique a little.” Lux comments, her head tilted to one side.

The three women stand in front of a tri-fold mirror that Hera had brought in to Elaida’s bedroom. Elaida stands in the center in a t-shirt and jeans but barefoot, Lux stands to her left in a simple knee-length yellow dress, while Hera stands with all her sophistication about four inches higher than the other two in a long dress that twists around her body and heels. There’s a huge pile of a combination of Hera’s and Lux’s personal dresses, along with a few donations from Sona. They’re looking for pieces to pick out, starting with just a color. Which none of them can seem to agree on.

“Mystique, hmm? Well, perhaps something more traditional-Noxian?” Lux cringes at the suggestion and, at seeing her expression, Elaida looks over at Hera who stands near the pile.

“I’m trying to _impress_ the people of Demacia, Hera, not _frighten_ them.” The tall woman gives an exasperated sigh. “It’s alright, we’ve got six days to decide.”

“Four. I need to send the design back home with enough time for my seamstress to make it up.” Lux corrects and Elaida nods.

“Four days. Still, plenty of time. Oh, and thanks again for loaning me your seamstress.” Lux shrugs.

“Wasn’t my call; Garen and I share her and he was the one asked her to make it. According to him, she’s convinced you’re going to show up and you two are going to announce your plans to marry and that you’re pregnant or something.” All three laugh. “On a serious note,” Lux says after a long moment, “I like where you’re going with the idea, Hera, but maybe not quite that far.” She digs through the pile of fine dresses on the bed for a moment before finally finding the one she’s looking for. She holds up a crimson shirt that Hera brought and holds it over Elaida’s torso. The three stop, examining how she looks in the color. “What about this?” Lux says after another pause.

“I see where you’re going, Miss Crownguard,” Hera says, staring with a hawkish expression Elaida recognizes immediately. “But perhaps a single shade darker, and,” she grabs one of Sona’s scarves. It’s from Christmas the prior year, a gift from Sona to Sona, and is silky silver. She drapes it around Elaida’s torso like a sash, and Elaida makes an ‘oooo’ sound that makes the other two chuckle.

“This color but a little darker,” Lux indicates to the shirt, “with a silver embroidery going across the chest, around the top of the corset, and then dotted throughout the skirt?” Elaida misses the end of what Lux just said.

“Corset?” Hera nods happily, pulling the two into her hands and examining them more closely.

“Yes, I think that will do wonderfully, Miss Crownguard.”

“Corset?”

“Hera, Lux. Please.”

_“Corset?”_

“Right, sorry.”

“What do you mean by _corset_?” The two women finally turn to Elaida, exasperated.

“You’re going to be in a corset, no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. It’s still popular in Demacia, even if it’s died off in Zaun and Ionia.” Lux says with a surprisingly firm tone. Elaida growls, crosses her arms in discontent, but looks away. It’s her way of saying ‘fine, but I don’t have to like it’, and Lux nods once in her direction. Hera stares at the two in shock, wondering why that didn’t work for her when she tried. “Alright, do you mind if I borrow this shirt for a few days? I need to send-” Hera holds up her hands, smiling gently.

“Anything for you, Lux.” Lux smiles, grateful.

“Thanks Hera,” Elaida rolls her eyes, turning back to the mirror and staring at her own reflection. Lux appears at her side a moment later, “You’re going to look beautiful. Everyone will be gawking. I think even my dear brother will peel his eyes off Sona long enough to give you a good look.” The two laugh softly. “Thank you for doing this. Even if you don’t succeed, it will go a long way to fulfilling Jarvan’s plan for peace.” Elaida notices out of the corner of her eye that Hera has grabbed the things of her own that aren’t being borrowed and ducked out. “It’ll go a long way for Demacia, and hopefully for you as well.” Lux almost seems to want to put her hand on Elaida’s partially-prosthetic shoulder, but she hesitates and puts her hand back down. Elaida finally nods after a moment.

“Did I ever really have a choice?” She asks, and the tone of the conversation changes to very, very serious. Lux is taken aback by the abruptness of the question, and she doesn’t answer, instead looking away before leaving as well. When Elaida hears the lock click into place, her fist finds the center of the mirror, and shattered glass falls to the ground around her bare feet.

When Elaida first arrives at dinner that night, her feet still sore from picking out shards of glass, she initially believes that all the Demacians are absent. She realizes quickly that this is an incorrect assessment; Garen is present and sitting with Malcolm. Before the two notice her presence, she dashes over to the Noxian corner, wanting to see Darius before she surrenders herself to what may be an awkward situation. She’s glad that he and his brother are sitting with their backs to the crowd so they’re closer to her, but Katarina stiffens slightly upon noticing her approach. When she gets close enough to be heard, Darius and Draven turn together to look who nears their table, but both smile when they recognize her. Draven immediately turns back to the table to speak to Annie, but Darius waits patiently. When she’s nearly on top of him, she crouches down so only he and possibly Draven can hear her.

“Hey, so I talked to Sona and she said she’ll be too busy to escort me in two weeks, but I got a deal worked out and I’ll still be able to go.” Darius can’t help himself.

“Spill. Who’s your escort?” She sighs.

“Garen Crownshield.” Draven immediately pivots back to look at her, slackjawed.

“Garen Crownshield? _Garen Crownshield_ is coming to _my party_?” Elaida chuckles.

“Indeed. So you two aren’t going to start anything with him, _right_?” Darius huffs and Draven nearly looks ready to punch him.

“No, because my yearly party is open to _everyone_. King Jarvan III and Prince Jarvan IV could show up and on my life they would come out unscathed. It’s supposed to be _fun_ , not _dangerous_ , though if you ask Jinx those two terms are synonymous.” All three chuckle. “But seriously, if Garen wants to come, he’s more than welcome to. In fact, tell him I look forward to seeing him on the dance floor. We’ll have a dance-off.” Elaida _has_ to put a hand over her mouth to stop the obnoxious guffaw that wants to escape. Draven only grins in response.

“What are you doing to get him to come?” Darius asks, rolling his eyes at his brother.

“I have to go to that party this weekend at House Lightshield’s as his guest.” Draven snorts, shaking his head before turning once again to Annie. Darius looks a little somber. “Promise me you’ll be careful.” Elaida’s face shows confusion and concern. “I’ve… I’ve been hearing some stuff about you coming out of Demacia. If it were up to _me_ , you wouldn’t be leaving the League for a few months until it died down, but Jarvan thinks he can guarantee your safety. I’m not so sure. So just… be safe.” Now she looks more curious.

“What do you know, Darius?” He glances around the room, carefully scanning for something, before finally making eye contact with her. His voice goes even lower than it was before.

“Someone in Demacia has it out for you. Something from when your kids, I haven’t heard what, but someone wants you dead. Someone with power and _money_. There’s also rumors floating around that, since you and I became friends, that you’re planning on switching to the Noxian side and betraying Demacia all together. If anyone finds out that you’re going to that party in advanced, some zealous idiot might try something. Now, we both know that you’re not switching sides anytime soon, at least not that I’m aware of, but it’s part of why your popularity is going down.”

“... How did you find out about all this?” Darius shrugs.

“After our last talk, I did some digging, asked around. Just be careful.” Elaida nods, before standing, clapping Darius on the shoulder and heading back towards Malcolm and Garen. Garen’s staring at her openly from across the room while Graves sits back in his chair, chewing thoughtfully on his food. “Hey guys.” Elaida says as she plops down next to Graves.

“What did he want?” Garen asks, his eyes still watching Darius. Elaida rolls hers.

“I was telling him I was going to be at the party and I was bringing you. Draven said to tell you he’s looking forward to seeing you and he wants a dance-off.” Garen’s eyes finally flicker away from the Noxians towards her, raising a curious eyebrow before he relaxes altogether.

“What did he want after that?”

“He just wants me to watch my back in Demacia. I told him a bit about how I grew up and that I made some enemies back then.” Garen accepts this as an answer for now, but Malcolm’s expression says _You’re telling me everything later_. She gives him the faintest nod before looking back at Garen. “So where’s Prince J, Lux and the rest?” Garen snorts at the term she uses to describe Jarvan.

“They’re off planning the party. Did you say something Lux to unsettle her?” She shrugs.

“Nothing that wasn’t true.” Garen and Malcolm roll their eyes at that.

“ _Must_ you be so confrontational?” Graves asks teasingly, finally contributing to the conversation. Elaida laughs.

“I’m not confrontational, just honest! I’ll be back in a few, gonna go get some eats.” When Elaida returns, Garen has disappeared as well as Graves’ plate. She sits and takes a few bites, the uncomfortable silence consuming the table. Finally, Malcolm can’t wait any longer.

“Spill. Everything. Now.” Elaida sighs and swallows her food. “C’mon, girly, you’ve not been around long enough to tell me ‘bout that business with you-know-who, now this? You owe me.”

“No, I don’t, but I’ll tell anyway,” she pauses and gives him a curious stare, “By the way, you ever tell anyone about my being from House Brightsworn?” He shakes his head.

“Seemed too personal, figured you’d tell e’erybody when you’re ready.” A semi-malicious grin spreads across her features and he raises an eyebrow. “Why am I terrified of that look?”

“Because _you’re the only one who knows_. Literally no one else, as far as I’m aware, knows about that part of my past. Everyone always asks about my arm which is _after_ that. I think this may come into play this weekend in my favor. Thank you for not telling anyone.” Graves looks confused, but he nods anyway. “Alright, so what do you want to know?”

“What’s this business between you and The Purifier?” She laughs softly.

“After my arm was replaced, I spent some time wandering around Demacia. I ended up starved nearly to death in the middle of winter and barricaded underneath some stranger’s doorway. Turns out it was Lucian and Senna’s doorway.” His eyes widen considerably, “They took me in, hired a nurse to bring me back from the brink,and when I woke up we worked out an arrangement. I lived with them for four years, cleaning and maintaining their house while they hunted the undead all over the place. I was paid in food, water and shelter. When Thresh captured Senna’s soul, Lucian sold the house and disappeared. I never saw him again until the other day. That was ten years ago.” Graves looks away and lets her eat a bit more, considering what he’s been told and digesting it.

“So you actually _met Senna_.” Elaida’s smile is grim.

“Knew her well. She and Lucian were like parents to me. I was barely a teenager back then.” A pause. “What else do you want to know?”

“What’s going on this weekend that’s got everyone all keyed up?” Elaida explains to Graves about the party, about the deal with Garen, about Ashe, and tells him in full what Darius told her, all in a hushed tone. When she finishes, she eats a few more bites of her food before looking to him for comment. “I s’pose the only thing I can say is exactly what Darius did: watch your back… How much detail did he go into about the possibility of you switchin’ sides?” Elaida shakes her head and he whistles. “He was probably smart not to tell ya much for his own sake, though not for yours.” Her eyes narrow at him as she chews.

“I’m not sure how to break this to ya, girly, so I’m just gonna say it right out. Everyone in their right mind is terrified of the idea of another full-scale war. It’s why the League was created; it’s why we have the Summoners. But _you_? You just made the whole thing that much more interestin’. See, ‘fore you came along, the battlefield was pretty evenly tipped. Ionia and Demacia on one side, Zaun and Noxius on the other, with Freljord, the Shadow Isles, the Rakkor, and the Voidlings sittin’ kinda off to the side. No one wanted a war because everyone knew that victory would come at a greater cost than it would be worth. But then you and all your brass shows up. See, you’ve got enough concentrated power all in yourself that you could very easily tip the battle one way or the other. Sure, you’re not a mage, but you’re a  _leader_. You’re like a human Aatrox. If the Demacian’s can cement you as loyal to their cause, they could leave the League altogether, put you on the front lines and win some major victories. But i f the _Noxians_ get ya, well, it’s almost _certain_ war’s comin’, and the Summoners won’t be able to stop it this time. Anyone worth talkin’ to from Freljord is going to take you very seriously, the Shadow Isles are gonna love ya, and the Rakkor are going to respect ya like no other. _You_ are the new battlefront, girly. If one side wins you over and secures you, nothing will stand in their way.” Elaida visibly looks sick to her stomach and Graves puts a hand on her shoulder. “Y’gonna keep your food down or should I get a bucket?”

“I’ll be fine,” she mostly whispers out, not looking at him directly. “I just-I don’t really know-”He gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Remember how y’thanked me for not tellin’ anyone about you being from Brightsworn?” She nods, now making real eye-contact, “This is the same thing. This is another poker chip for you. Keep it secure; don’t play it ‘til y’need to. Play your cards right, you won’t ever have to. The more you know about what these people want from you, the more power you have over them. They can’t get to you. Y’hear me?” Tears brim in her eyes and she nods.

“I’ve never felt so used in my whole life. Is every friendship I’ve made here a lie?” Graves shakes his head vehemently.

“Absolutely not. Sona and me? We’re on your side, girly. She would’ve told you about all this ‘erself, but she ain’t technically allowed. Someone at the top didn’t want you to know about this until the moment was right; probably this weekend. She told me to tell you she’s sorry for havin’ to keep this from you.” Elaida quickly wipes away a tear before it can fall and she nods. “Ashe and Leona pro’lly know, but they’re not as involved so any kindness from them is genuine. Darius and Garen…” He sighs, “I really don’t know.” She swallows past the knot forming in her throat.

“I guess I’ll have to determine that for myself.”


	16. The Party, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elaida's dress: http://www.ringologs.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/ball-gowns-9.jpg  
> Lux's dress: http://aclhi.com/excellent-photos-of-ball-gowns-design-ideas/charming-yellow-tulle-spaghetti-strap-dress-beautiful-formal-dresses-for-weddings/  
> Garen's tuxedo: http://images.buy4lesstuxedo.com/ikebehartuxedo.jpg  
> Jayce's tuxedo: http://s7d4.scene7.com/is/image/CostumeSupercenter/CH01850?$mediumlarge$  
> Jarvan's tuxedo: http://www.tuxestoo.com/images/lauren1.jpg
> 
> Please message me if one of these links stops working so I can fix it.

Arriving at House Lightshield was more nerve-wracking than Elaida could’ve anticipated. Swallowing past the knot in her throat, she gives Garen her best smile, who chuckles. He places a comforting hand on her shoulder, murmuring some of the history of the historic landmark that is Castle Lighthouse as though she hasn’t heard it before. She reminds herself: _he doesn’t know. He can’t know. Not yet. Perhaps tonight, but not yet._

Elaida focuses the most on simply breathing. She doesn’t think about how her skin crawls, her hands are feeling clammy, her sweat forming under her hairline, or her stomach churning. She tries desperately not to think about the last time she was here. Dirty, bloody, hungrier than anything, scared for her life, and about to go on trial for her sins. Lux sits across from the two, fiddling with the hem of her dress nervously. Elaida can’t help her curious expression, but she doesn’t ask, assuming it has to do with the conversation Elaida will have to have with Ashe later.

AS the carriage comes to a halt, Garen is the first to move to get out. He opens the door, and as his mother told him, held out a hand for Lux who gracefully descends. He also waits for Elaida, who does her best to do what Lux did, but she very nearly trips on the hem of her own dress. Fiddling with it, she manages to make it sit in such a way that she doesn’t have to hold it nor does she risk tripping again.

Satisfied, she looks up at Garen, who silently motions ahead. In front of them is a large red carpet that leads towards a familiar pair of large doors. On either side of the carpet are thick ropes that hold back a large crowd of photographers and interviewers looking to ask the Champions questions about their stay at the League. Elaida groans softly and Garen murmurs to her that she doesn’t have to talk to them all night, just a few minutes. She notices also that every Demacian Champion bar herself and Garen are already making their way down the carpet with who she can only assume to be Jarvan at the front.

When everyone stops to look and see who just arrived, there’s a sudden hush that falls over the crowd, though the photographers snap at least 30 photos of she and Garen. Elaida refuses to allow a flush to come upon her face, instead giving the crowd a gentle smile as Garen leads her forward. The first few people don’t even say a word, too shocked to see her presence to ask anything. Finally, a young woman, obviously an up-and-comer trying to a make a name for herself, calls out Elaida and Garen’s names. Elaida’s head is too busy spinning to really hear the question or Garen’s answer, her eyes feeling blasted by all of the flashes of light. Finally, Garen gives her a gentle nudge to the side of her stomach, and shaking it off, Elaida puts on her best smile.

“I am so sorry, I wasn’t totally here for a moment, could you please repeat the question?” The woman gives her a grin.

“I asked, Miss Elaida, if you feel that Demacia should send more Champions to the League in order to increase our military presence there?” The question is loaded and _everyone_ knows it. In a low-stress environment, Elaida would’ve set her jaw and then ripped the woman a new one. But Elaida can see Garen and the other Champions, the other interviewers, and the fans behind them staring at her, waiting for her answer. She swallows before finally selecting on what to say.

“I don’t.” Is her initial reply, and before the woman can say anything, she cuts her off, “I feel that Demacia is extremely well represented. We have people to fill every role imaginable for the defense of our city; and those people are the strongest fighters we have in Demacia. To send anyone else would weaken us. They would be a distraction for our Champions and a potential weak-link that the enemy could exploit.” The woman seems so surprised by this answer, she fumbles for a follow up question. Garen uses the opportunity to pull Elaida further forward to get away from her. “How did I do?” She whispers to him, the crowd murmuring around them at her response.

“Not what I would’ve said,” Garen replies, “But you made a strong argument and spoke the truth. I think you have earned a small measure of respect for that.” She takes a deep breath before hearing someone else calling her name.

“Elaida! Elaida!” One of the interviewers a little further down called, and again, each Champion in front of her seemed to quiet as though to listen. “Where do you fit in with Demacia’s Dream Team?” It’s all she can do to not laugh.

“I don’t,” again, the intervierwers gasp in shock at her response, “If it’s a Dream Team, then it should be perfect the way it is. If it’s not working perfectly, it’s not a Dream Team.”

“Is it true you’re half Avarosan?”

“What are your views on Freljord?”

“Have you met Queen Ashe? Is it true she leaves mid-conversation?”

“You recently fought for the Avarosans in a decisive battle for them, what were your reasons for joining their team? Can we look forward to see you working with them again?”

“Are you now loyal to the Avarosan cause? Does this conflict with your loyalty to Demacia?”

“Are you leaving Demacia for Freljord? Do you think this may cause another war?” Garen’s just about to usher her through the door as quickly as he can, the floodgates having been unleashed. Even Prince Jarvan is being ignored by the journalists. But the last few questions rub Elaida the wrong way, and she doesn’t think she can afford to ignore them. Stopping mid-stride, she quickly maneuvers and ducks out of Garen’s arms and walks up to one of the last people screaming questions at her.

“Yes, I have met Queen Ashe, no she doesn’t leave mid-conversation. I have expressed to Her Ladyship that should Freljord have need, I will make myself available to her as best as I am able. As for working with them again, that’s up to Queen Ashe now. I wouldn’t consider myself ‘loyal to their cause’, that has a lot of heavy implications and would arguably conflict with my Demacian loyalties. Let me put it this way, I am actively interested in a resolution between the Demacian and Freljord peoples that will benefit both. No, I am not leaving Demacia for Freljord, though as it is where my mother is from because I am half Avarosan, I would be very interested in visiting sometime. I actively avoid conflict, contrary to popular belief, so trust me when I say that if a war does start, it will _not_ be because of my actions. I am a proponent of peace. I once negotiated a truce between two Demacian street gangs that ended a four year war between the two, and ended with the two becoming one and far less blood being spilled on our streets. For the record, I was fourteen at the time. That was almost exactly ten years ago.” She gives the man, who’s both exhilarated and mildly frightened by her nearness, a pointed stare before returning to Garen’s side.

Once inside, Elaida spots the nearest seat and sits in it, resting her head against the wall. She takes a few deep breaths, ignoring the large presence seating itself next to her. After a few minutes of stillness, a hand lays itself on her knee, palm-up. Without really considering her actions, her hand finds the open one on her leg, and they intertwine fingers. After another pause, the hand gently squeezes hers.

“You did very well. Those are serious concerns that have been raised about you recently, and you took them seriously and gave serious answers. I’m not certain how people will react to your being a ‘proponent of peace’; our society has become so wrapped up in war…”

“... You’re not sure they even know what peace looks like anymore, let alone if they still want it? Even though everyone yells and screams as loud as they can that we only go to war to bring peace?” Garen’s sigh is thick with emotion. “I know.” Her eyes slowly drift open and she turns her head a little to look at him. He meets her gaze after a second, and they both try to give each other a smile. Failing miserably, they both let their shoulders fall for the burden weighing on their minds. “We should probably go,” Elaida mumbles after a minute. Garen slowly nods and stands, pulling her up with him. “... You look good, by the way.”

“You too.” He replies, knowing any further compliment would only make her uncomfortable and probably defensive again. Even though their conversation was depressing and even convicting, he still considered a victory. It was a breakthrough. They had opened up to each other, even if it was a little bit.

Garen eyes her dress a little, still laughing on the inside over the story of how it came to be. At least the first part; he’s still uncertain how to take Elaida’s statement to Lux at the end of their conversation. The dress itself, however, came out almost exactly as predicted. A deep crimson in color, a smattering of silver started at the top of her corset and weaved it’s way across her torso to her hip. From there started her large skirt, which fanned out and fettered, the uppermost layer being tied up near her hip and allowed to fall down. The dress hung so low on her that it covered her feet. The underlayer of the thick cloth, as the dress had two layers of fabric to allow one to be tied up and not expose anything, also the silver but it was more sprinkled randomly. Her white hair, normally loose and bouncy and obviously never given more than a second’s thought in the morning, is brushed and laying flat against her head. It gave her an ethereal, almost old-fashioned kind of look that, combined, made her look more like an old spirit of joy or dancing here to grace the party with her presence. If Garen wasn’t already deeply interested in Sona, he’d probably try flirting with her now.

 _Speaking of flirting…_ Garen leads Elaida into the main ballroom. He’s, of course, been here more times than he can count, but Elaida hasn’t. The room itself is easily 17 meters high and 47 meters long. There’s a row of chandeliers going down the center of the room, each inlaid with gold and diamonds. On the right side of the room is two tiers of windows that are ornately decorated with gold and blue gold. The floor is made of a dim-colored marble that makes Elaida’s heels click funny. On the opposite side of the ballroom from them are two large doors, the left Garen knows leads to some back bedrooms and the kitchens. The right door is open, and leads to a grand staircase that goes to the grounds which overlook the Guardian’s Sea. Garen can tell that some of the party is going on outside, there are lights on the other side of the window and he can smell the ocean air coming in. He spots his prize near the right door, staring at the pair with a mixture of pride and jealousy. Elaida nudges him.

“What?”

“ _Jayce_.”

Looking across the room, Elaida sees the large man as well. He’s wearing a nice-looking tuxedo with long coattails and a bowtie. Black coat, shoes, slacks and vest, white shirt, and red bowtie. Simple, approachable, disarmingly charming. But it’s who’s standing across from him that clues Elaida in.

“Is that Lux?” Garen’s soft growl she assumes is a ‘yes’. “Are they a couple?” He shakes his head. “Do they want to be?” He nods. “Do you approve?” He pulls a ‘slightly dissatisfied’ look. Elaida nudges his side. “C’mon, big brother, what’s not to like? He’s sweet, intelligent, tries to do the right thing, and totally gorgeous. They’ll make beautiful little nieces and nephews for you.” Garen rolls his eyes.

“He’s not Demacian.” She quirks an eyebrow.

“And according to _most_ , I barely qualify as Demacian. Does it really matter that much?” He sighs.

“No, I suppose not. I just… I wish they’d gone about this a completely different way. Lux is younger than you are. They tried to get our parents’ permission to begin courting when she hadn’t come of age yet, and they vehemently disapproved. They wanted her to finish her studies before they’d even consider letting her begin courting, and soon as she finished, she joined the League. So they haven’t had a real opportunity to bring it up to our parents again, so they’ve been seeing each other in private and it’s been very frustrating.”

“For you, you mean?”

“Yes. Of course I want Lux to be happy, but since she joined the League… She’s been… _different_. I don’t mean different-bad, I just mean…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what I mean.” Elaida tries to not lick her lips; she has lipstick on and she’s trying to not ruin it before Ashe arrives.

“But things are different now, you don’t get to spend as much time together, you feel like you two are growing apart and you think she’s keeping things from you?” Garen’s laugh is almost bitter.

“Am I truly that easy to read?” Elaida shrugs.

“Only when someone gets to know you.”

An hour later, Elaida finds herself leaning against one of the gold-inlaid windows, her feet sore. She desperately wishes she could reach down and massage her feet, but she gets the distinct feeling no one would like that. Garen’s left for the moment, gone to get the two of them some food to get Elaida to stop complaining. He’s noticed she’s significantly quieter when food is present, which she decides is a good thing. Glancing around, she notices Jayce standing off by himself near the large, shut door opposite her. Deciding to take a chance, she walks briskly across the room and gently lays a hand on his arm.

“May we talk in private for a moment?” She asks abruptly, and surprised by her shortness, he just stares at her. “It has to do with Lux.” Biting his lower lip, he nods and she pulls him behind the large, shut door. Once she’s got it closed behind her, she turns around to face him. “I’m going to assume you know who I am since apparently everyone’s talking about me behind my back, so I’m going to skip introductions. I’ve recently been informed about your hush-hush relationship with the Lightcaster,” he tries to say something and she puts up a hand, “We have limited time before Garen comes back and starts looking for me. If you don’t care a _wit_ about Lux, and you’re only in this for the money, glory, fame, or to get another notch on your belt, ignore everything I’m about to say. However, if you _do_ genuinely care about her, and I honestly want to believe that you do, you need to listen. Your relationship with Lux is ruining her relationship with Garen. Garen cares, Garen’s _rooting_ for you two, he doesn’t have anything against your relationship. But you two have been trying so hard to keep this quiet, Garen’s been feeling like Lux is pulling away from him. I know, I know, Lux is an adult now and she can make her own decisions. But being an adult isn’t an excuse to go around burning bridges with your family. I don’t know how Lux feels about Garen; for all I know he used to beat her senseless when they were kids. But I know how Garen feels about Lux, and I know it’s destroying him inside to watch her pulling away like this. I also know that when the moment comes when Garen’s opinion is asked on your relationship, you’re going to want him to say something nice, and the road you’re headed down right now isn’t encouraging that to happen. Like I said, if you don’t really care about her and you’re in this because she’s got a great butt or something, ignore all of that. If you do care, though, I strongly recommend making amends with Garen before talking to their parents.” Stopping for a breath, she turns and cracks the door open just a little. “Garen’s back, I gotta go. Stay here for five minutes after I leave, and then come out.” She slides her way out the door, grabbing an abandoned wood chair on her way out, without once turning to look at Jayce again. Setting the chair down a few feet away from the door, she promptly sits in it before Garen looks her way. ‘Spotting’ him at the same time he sees her, she raises her hand and waves a little. He chuckles and comes near, handing her a plate full of food.

“Thought I’d lost you,” he mumbles, shaking his head. She scoffs.

“As if.” She reaches up and touches his hand, putting on her best pouty face, “I could never abandon _you,_ Garen.” He rolls his eyes.

“Shut up.” At that moment, the door next to them opens and Jayce steps out, looking embarrassed and a little whipped. Garen gives him a curious expression as the large man steps near. “Can I help you with something, Defender?” He pauses, and then nods.

“May I speak with you for a moment?”

Elaida offers to hold Garen’s plate for him, mumbling something about not making promises about his food. Elaida is perfectly aware of the fact that if she really wanted to, she could easily escape as Garen and Jayce go back through the door. She’s already found four different ways out. For the moment, she’s content where she is. Things seem to be taking a positive turn for her, _finally_ , even if she’d rather be _anywhere_ but here. She’s heard prison’s not so bad this time of year. Stuffing her face full of food, she’s considering making a run for it when a hand lands on her shoulder.

“We need to talk,” Garen says from above, his voice thick.

Looking up at him, his expression is a blur of emotions, and she hands him his plate before standing and following him. He leads her through the open door, but instead of following the lit path outside, he takes her down the long hallway. They find a secluded staircase and take it up, then back down a hallway. Finally, they go out to a balcony that oversees the party out on the grounds and the Guardian’s Sea. Garen leans against the banister, chewing on his lip, plate still in hand. Elaida takes a moment to look at him. His hair is brushed down nicely, his face clean and smelling strongly of aftershave. His black-and-white tuxedo fits him perfectly, his blue tie bearing the symbol of Demacia. None of that seems to matter to him in this moment. He sets the plate down before turning to Elaida, who stands a few paces back, still stuffing food in her face. He tries three or four times to say something, stopping just before a sound can escape.  He glances away, swallows past a sob in his throat, and then looks back at her again.

“ _Thank you_.” Pursing her lips, she swallows her food and then shrugs.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” He snorts.

“ _Bull._ I know you talked to Jayce.” She raises an eyebrow. “He indirectly ratted you out.” A noise of frustration escapes her. “I would hug you right now if it wasn’t for the fact I’d get food all over my new suit and probably a punch in the face.” She gives him a pointed look.

“You’d get two punches, one for making me lose this food, and the second for hugging me.” He laughs past his tears. “Sona’s the hugger, not me.” She steps a little closer to him as he uses a napkin to wipe up a tear. “You’re welcome.” A pause.

“Why? Why did you stick your neck out for me?” She shrugs.

“You’re the only Demacian willing to work with me. I’m not about to let that be jeopardized by some teenager who doesn’t know how to balance her relationships and her huge boyfriend.” He sighs heavily.

“So you did all this for yourself?” She bites her lower lip, walking past him to lean against the bannister.

“I’ve spent most of my life doing things for myself. Partially because I’ve never really been responsible for anyone else, but also because if I didn’t, I wasn’t going to survive. I’m a _survivor_ , Garen, I do what I must. It’s how I’ve been able to justify what I’ve done _despite_ the nightmares.” She turns around, sets her plate down, and leans back a little to look at his disappointed face. “I’ve also grown accustomed to quick, temporary partnerships for mutually beneficial purposes that usually end in disaster. You want something more. You don’t want a partner but a _friend_ , which is something I haven’t had in a long, looong time. I figure… friends help each other. Do stuff for each other. Or at least, that’s what I’ve always been told.” Her arms wrap around herself and she looks away as his expression changes. “I’m not… I’m not a monster. Or at least I don’t think I am. I like to think I’m made of better stuff than what everyone presumes I am. I’ve just never been in a place to show or prove that, because I’ve always been fighting just to get a chance at seeing the next sunrise. My circumstances have finally changed for the better. I don’t have to keep fighting.” She sees his feet stand next to the edge of her dress, and his hands lightly touch her elbows.

“Does this mean we are friends, Elaida?” He asks, his voice soft but still thick with all his raging emotions. She shrugs a little.

“I don’t know. If not, we’re making our way there.” He nods, and they both hear a soft clinking sound behind them. Garen turns, but Elaida doesn’t care enough to look up, instead turning back to her food. He mumbles to her that he’ll be waiting downstairs and departs. Biting her lower lip, Elaida very easily puts together who’s here, but she chooses to turn around and look over the party instead. A tall, then glass appears at the edge of her vision filled with a bubbling substance. “I didn’t think it was proper for Demacians to drink,” she murmurs as she lifts the champagne to her lips. A deep chuckle resonates next to her.

“And yet, some of the worst alcoholics I know are Demacian.” She sips the pinkish liquid. “Enjoying the party so far?” She shrugs as she sets the glass down.

“I suppose. It’s the first one I’ve attended in almost twenty years, _Your Lordsh-_ ”his hand covers hers.

“Just Jarvan, please.” She finally looks up at him, making eye contact, grinning devilishly.

“So not J-4?” He laughs, shaking his head. “JJ?” He rolls his eyes. “Jarhead?” Now a pointed stare, and she raises her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, _Jarvan_.” She scoffs. _“Jarvan._ What a presumptuous name. Jarvan _the Fourth_ is even worse.” His laughter returns.

“Oh? And _Elaida’s_ not?” She shakes her head, her grin not wavering.

“No, Elaida’s bitchy.” His guffaw is almost obnoxious and it makes her laugh as well. After a pause filled with laughter, she catches him looking her over out of the corner of her eye.

“You look beautiful.” A slight blush rises to her cheeks.

“Didn’t your father put a bounty on my head and have me arrested for doing a lot of bad stuff? Are you even allowed to talk to me?” Jarvan shakes his head.

“I talk to whoever I want, whenever I want, whether Father likes it or not.” She snorts at the rhyme. “Most of the stuff you did you didn’t have much choice in. If it were my way, your slate would be wiped clean and it would be the nobles of Demacia who would have to atone for the atrocities committed against you.” Her expression falls, and she almost glares at the ocean.

“And if it were also your way, would I be heading up the front charge against the Noxian army?” Jarvan immediately bites his lower lip, and she turns her spiteful glare at him.

“So you’re aware of that conversation.” Her scoff is angry.

“I give you credit: you’re at least not trying to lie your way out of it.” Jarvan’s hand, which had shifted away from hers during their conversation, returns and holds it tightly.

“Know that I have taken no part in it. Most of what you’re referring to has been between my father and his advisors after it was brought up _off-handedly_ by Shyvana. I, too, am aware that the Noxians have also been discussing using you in such a way, but I think you and I are very like-minded. You said you wanted peace? I do as well. It’s why I recommended you for a position in the Demacian government,” her sour expression dies and she looks up at him, bewildered, “Ambassador to Freljord. Unfortunately, my voice has less sway than I would like it to with my father. It’s why I set up tonight the way I did. Queen Ashe doesn’t trust me, but she seems open to speaking with you. If tonight goes a quarter of as well as I’m hoping it does, it’ll send shockwaves through Demacia, and _you’ll_ receive full credit.” The hand he has over hers pulls her to face him, and his opposite hand cups her cheek.

“I believe that you and I can accomplish great things together. We may even see peace in our time.” His hand slips away from her face, “But I’m aware that means you’ll have to trust me, and that trust is not something you give out freely. It’s one of the things I like most about you. So if I’m ever going to earn your trust, I must give a display of trust of my own.”

Reaching up, he fiddles with something around his neck. Pulling it down, Elaida only gets a glance at a necklace before he reaches up and puts it around her neck, fiddling with it until it stays. Elaida gently lifts the item, seeing two golden, inward-facing, winged lions with diamond swords in their front paws. The swords cross in front of a large, bluish green gem that’s inside a gold and blue-gold casing that forms a cross in front of it.

“This was my mother’s, it’s been passed down in my family for generations, since the first Lightshield. It’s what became the Demacian crest. I want you to have it.” Elaida feels a rush to her head. Emotion swirls, causing a gap in speech. Anger, shock, and happiness are the foremost of her tidal waves of feelings. He shushes her gently as she grasps at words. “Don’t think about it. Queen Ashe and King Tryndamere were spotted a few moments ago only a klick out. You only have a few moments left to prepare yourself before you need to go down there.” His hands rest on her forearms and she takes a deep breath.

“What do I tell her?” He bites his lip.

“Tell her, and _only_ if it comes up, don’t force it, that I am on her side. I don’t have the authority right now to make a treaty with her people, but that I intend to see us united. Whatever she demands, support it, but tell her you have to clear it with me before it can be official. And send her my regards.” A look of nervousness must have crossed her face, because he gives her a gentle smile. “You’ll be great, no matter what. I’m not looking to sign anything tonight, but just _getting the ball rolling_ will start up a conversation no one in Demacia has wanted to have for years. We’re changing things, Elaida, you and I, _together_. And it all starts tonight.”

With that, the two descend. Jarvan, out of politeness, extends his arm and she takes it, wrapping her own around his elbow. People gasp as the come around the corner, surprised that the son of the man who paid for her arrest would be seen accompanying her.  He murmurs to her to not pay them any mind; they haven’t seen _anything_ yet. Her eyes scan the room, and she spots Ashe and Tryndamere standing in a corner and being greeted by a few people Elaida doesn’t recognize. Garen magically appears at her side, and he and Jarvan share a glance before Jarvan suddenly slips away from her and into the crowd. He seems to melt away before she can ask what’s going on. Garen wraps her arm around his own in the same way she’d just been seen with Jarvan and leads her towards the Avarosan lords. His only advice?

“Remember to _smile_.” She rolls her eyes, but does smile once Ashe looks over and spots them. The teenager returns the smile, her gown a majestic light blue. A light hand taps Tryndamere, and turning, he sees Garen and gets a broad grin.

“Garen!” His voice bellows over the din of the crowd, and Garen can’t help but laugh.

“Tryndamere! Or-” he glances around conspiratorially as the two near, “Should I call you King Tryndamere?” The massive man chuckles.

“Technically, you _should_ , but it’s you so please, just Tryndamere.” Garen nods, then indicates to Elaida, who refreshes her smile.

“Of course, you’ve met Lady Elaida?” Ashe curtsys politely though everyone knows she doesn’t have to, and Tryndamere gives an exaggerated bow.

“My _lady_ …” Ashe gives a soft giggle, and Tryndamere stops mid-bow to look at her and give her a big smile. When the large man stands again, he claps a hand down on Garen’s shoulder. “So! Show me this magnificent palace of yours!” Garen laughs.

“Well, technically it’s not mine, but I certainly can give you a tour. I spent most of my childhood here.” The two turn away together, Garen’s voice getting fainter and fainter as they disappear into the crowd. When Elaida turns back from watching them leave to Ashe, she can’t help feeling a little embarrassed, chuckling nervously.

“Is he…?” Ashe rolls her eyes, smiling.

“Yes, he is _always_ like that.” The two find some nearby chairs to sit down in. “You look lovely, Elaida,” Ashe’s gentle voice murmurs. The woman in question smiles a little, staring down at her skirt.

“Thanks.” There’s an awkward pause, and Ashe scans the crowd. “How long have you been here for? I didn’t see you when I came in.”

“Oh, we only just arrived. Are we the only Champions here?” Elaida shakes her head.

“No, all the Demacian Champions are here, as well as Jayce from Piltover. I don’t know about anyone else.” Ashe nods, then looks over at her companion.

“How are you?  It’s been a week, I believe, since I last saw you.”

“ _Tired_. I’ve been here well over an hour already, probably closer to two, and spent most of it standing.” She lifts up her skirt high enough to show Ashe her shoes. “I don’t know how women can _stand_ in these.” Ashe laughs, shaking her head.

“Very carefully,” is her cryptic response. “How have the Demacians been treating you?” Elaida sighs.

“You should’ve seen it when I got here. Garen and Jarvan are very nice to me, but there were some interview-people outside looking for a juicy story and they asked me a lot of questions.”

“Such as?” She bites her lip.

“Such as, am I now a loyal Avarosan fighter and does it conflict with my Demacian loyalities?” Ashe’s eyes widen considerably.

“That’s a double-edged sword.” Elaida nods. “What did you tell them?”

“That I wouldn’t consider myself ‘loyal to the cause’; that has a lot of heavy implications. But I am actively interested in a resolution between the Demacian and Freljord peoples that will benefit both.” Ashe smiles a little, looking back at the crowd.

“That’s a good answer. Are you going to use it as a lead-in to talking with me about a Demacian-Avarosan treaty?” She chuckles.

“That was the plan.” Ashe grins almost mischievously, and it’s the most candid Elaida can recall ever seeing the Queen. “What would hinder you from being able to accept a treaty offered by Demacia?” Ashe looks over at the older woman.

“Are you asking me that as my friend, Elaida, or as Elaida, the Demacian?” She bites her lip.

“Both.” She lets off a soft ‘hmm’ sound.

“I’m not sure how much you know about international politics and what’s been going on the last few years.” She glances up at Elaida’s face and notices the blank stare, “So, nothing?” A nod. “Very well. Since the Noxian Barbarian Pacification Campaign, we have been… _critical_ of Demacia’s neutrality in the matter. In fact, Demacia has seemed rather territorial during some of the bloodier episodes of the campaign. They’ve turned away wounded refugees more than once. There are decades of mistrust between our people.” Elaida nods, turning away for a moment to consider all she’s been told. “Elaida, if you don’t mind my asking,” she turns back to the younger woman, “why do you ask?"

“Jarvan…” She sighs, shaking her head. “Jarvan has some interesting notions about me. He wants to appoint me the official Demacian Ambassador to Freljord. But he can’t do it until he’s King, and the current King shows no signs of dropping dead anytime soon.” Ashe hums and nods. An awkward pause follows, and Elaida claps her hands on her lap. “So, you and Tryndamere? Are you into big guys, or….?” Ashe laughs.

“Our union was for the betterment of our people.” She gives her a pointed stare. “... And he’s very warm at night.” Elaida laughs this time, shaking her head. “I care about Tryndamere, in many ways he’s become my closest friend; something I never would’ve imagined when I approached him about becoming King.”

“Have you two… _y’know_ ….” She's the Renegade. Rough-talkin', no-nonsense, rough-and-tumble Elaida Brightsworn. Yet for some reason, she can't say the word 'sex' in front of the eighteen-year-old Queen of Freljord.

“Our marriage has not yet been consummated, if that’s what you’re asking.” Elaida’s jaw drops. “Not the right time. Not yet. And he’s _constantly_ terrified he’ll accidentally break me.” She can’t help a snort, which makes Ashe laugh. “What about you?” She finally asks when the two catch their breath, “You and Garen?” Elaida shakes her head.

“No, Garen’s got his eyes on a certain songstress,” she points across the room, where Garen stands, staring openly out the window. Across the grounds is Sona, in a small orchestra, playing her etwahl. Tryndamere stands next to him, leaning against the window frame and also looking out the window, though he’s scanning the crowd. “He’s disgustingly gaga over her. I’m probably going to mention something about to Sona later this week, see if I can’t help them get the ball rolling.” Ashe raises an eyebrow at her.

“Playing matchmaker, are we?” Elaida shrugs.

“I know Sona’s into someone, but she hasn’t told me who yet. If it’s not Garen, I won’t push it. I just know that Sona being here has made my transition to living in the League a whole lot smoother. I want to do something for her in return, but she’s the kind of woman who already has everything she wants. Except that someone she mentioned a few weeks back.” Ashe nods.

“Reasonable. But you still haven’t told me about you yet. Are you and Graves…?” Elaida shakes her head.

“No, Graves digs Leona.” Ashe gives her a look. “I know! I think it’s crazy, too, but you can ask Sona, she’ll tell you all about it. In fact, the two became _friends_ because Sona knows Leona and Graves was hoping she would hook a brotha up.” Ashe just shakes her head, throwing her hands up in the air. “That about sums it up. As for me, though… I mean, don’t get me wrong, but Pantheon… _Pantheon_ …” she pretends to drool a little, making Ashe nearly fall out of her seat with laughter. “But I don’t actually know him at all, we’ve only spoken once during a sparring match which I _lost, horribly_. Other than a sexual attraction towards him, no, no one yet.” She gives the Avarosan a brief smile, who stares back in confusion.

“Really? No one? No one’s even been a little nice to you and made your heart skip a beat?” Elaida, after a pause, reaches into her shirt and retrieves the necklace Jarvan gave to her earlier. The Freljord queen gasps, reaching over to cup the huge pendant in her hand, her eyes mistified. “Holy shit…” Elaida’s eyes widened; she hadn’t expected her to _swear_. “Wh-who, where… _how_?”

“Jarvan, upstairs, put it on me about ten minutes ago.” Ashe looks back up at Elaida, trying both not to laugh and reign in her shock. “It became the crest of Demacia when House Lightshield took over.”

“You know in some cultures, that’s a marriage proposal?” Elaida yanks back the necklace, blushing furiously. “Even if it’s not, that’s so huge for him to give that to you. Did he say why?”

“He said he wants me to trust him, so he wanted to display his trust in me.” Ashe whistles very low, shaking her head. There’s a pause as they both let what they discussed sink in. Suddenly, Garen and Tryndamere appear at their sides, and Elaida shoves the necklace back down into her dress. Garen gives her a smile, and then extends his hand to her. Elaida’s expression is just confused, and Ashe leans over and whispers in her ear.

“Just take his hand.” Elaida later chastises herself for just blindingly trusting Ashe’s opinion, taking Garen’s hand. He pulls her to her feet and drags her out to the dance floor. He spins her out a few times as the music dictates, and on the last spin, pulls her in unnecessarily close.

“Are you sure you have feelings for Sona? Because your actions are convincing everyone the contrary.” Garen rolls his eyes.

“How are things going with _Queen Ashe_?” She bites her lip, and just before she can answer, someone taps on Garen’s shoulder. The two stop, and Jarvan gives them a small smile. “My liege,” Garen murmurs, nodding towards Jarvan.

“Garen, may I cut in?” Elaida rolls her eyes and cuts off Garen’s response.

“Yes, Jarvan, you can dance with me if you want.” Jarvan chuckles, unabashed about her rude cut in. Garen, however, ducks his head and bolts for outside, presumably to get to talk to Sona for the first time tonight. “Seriously, I don’t like being talked about like I’m not standing right here. If you want to dance with me, just a-”Jarvan suddenly swings her around, brisk and precise. She never stays near to him long enough to ask what he’s doing, but suddenly they’re off the dance floor and headed through the large, shut door.

Once on the other side, Jarvan sets off down the hallway in a fast pace, dragging her along. She struggles to keep up, not accustomed to heels, and he finally stops long enough to _bodily pick her up and carry her as he runs_. She clings to him, afraid to fall. Once they’ve gone down some winding and twisting hallways, he finally opens a door. He sets her down on the floor and goes to the bookshelf on the other side of the room while she takes stock of where she is. After a moment, she realizes she’s in the King’s office. Jarvan pulls a book out of the shelf, setting off a chain reaction in the wall. Silent as the grave, the bookshelf moves out of it’s location and behind the wall. Jarvan motions for her to come near, and once she’s at his side, he pulls her inside just before putting the book back.

“What’s going on-?” Jarvan shushes her.

“Stay quiet, stay still. I will be back for you, I promise. Trust me, Elaida.” The bookshelf easies back into place, and Elaida is suddenly alone.

 


End file.
